


Through Shadows and Light

by Tiara_of_Sapphires



Category: Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons)
Genre: And I mean REALLY slow romantic build, Canon-Typical Violence, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M, Gen, Minor Character Death, Slow Build, This is a mixture of cartoon and comic canon, Undergoing revisions, Various villains and others will appear, Will post major trigger warnings at beginning of chapter, won't name because spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-08 17:17:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4313607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiara_of_Sapphires/pseuds/Tiara_of_Sapphires
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She came to Earth fleeing a haunting past, hiding for 3 years in anonymity. But the secrets she was hiding are coming out and nothing will be the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. As the Sun Rises

**Author's Note:**

> LOL so I’m revising again... Surprise?  
> So this is my fic baby that I’ve been neglecting for over half a year. It’s still my baby. And I love it.  
> Enjoy!  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize blah blah blah don’t sue me DC I’m not worth it.

The water glass rose off of the nightstand. Athalia scrunched her nose, trying to keep it as level as possible.

Higher, still. Several inches off of the wooden surface. Her mind curled around it in an intangible grip. Not effortless, but close.

Lifting a glass off of a table. It used to be a commonplace act, nothing unusual. A party trick, a side-effect of something deeper and greater. On this planet…on this planet, it was a miracle, a curse. People like her, with abilities like hers, were lauded like gods or feared as monsters.

She was neither. She wanted to be anything but a god or a monster.

She just wanted to _be_. Maybe she could find happiness. Odds were that wasn’t going to happen, but she could dream.

_You shouldn’t be alive._

Her concentration shook and shattered and the glass dropped, hitting the edge of the table and cracking to pieces. She flinched at the sound.

Of course, it had to be that particular thought to grace her consciousness, disturbing her fitful peace. But, it wasn’t wrong. She really shouldn’t have been alive. She just wished her brain would come up with something a little more interesting and not something completely obvious.

There were over a thousand reasons why she shouldn’t have been alive. And yet, she was lying in a bed, alone, alive. On a strange planet and in a strange city.

The glass on the ground was a reminder of who she was, what she was.

_Foolish, foolish._

Foolish for stretching a muscle that had been ill-used for so long, not letting it be cooped up inside of her. Foolish for pretending that she didn’t crave every chance she could to use it, despite the pain and nostalgia that came with it, the danger that it posed to her freedom.

_Addict._

Her stomach twisted at the sudden loneliness, the still air of the little bedroom becoming a thousand times heavier, suffocating. She sat up, rolling her shoulders. Nights were cold and her apartment had no insulation, so she was used to waking up with stiff muscles and joints.

Leaving her lukewarm bed, she stood, keeping a wide berth of the glass.

She had her routine. One of the few things that she could rely on. It was a distraction, kept the ever-present hum under her skin in the back of her mind.

She washed her face, keeping her eyes away from the mirror, stripped herself of her thin sleep clothes, and put on clothes for the day. She didn’t have a lot of options.

Her brain stalled a little as she stood in front of her dresser.

Black fabric was wadded up and pressed to the back of the drawer. The color of mourning.

She used to wear only black scarves around her head. But she had stopped recently, allowing herself some color.

Color. She still mourned.

 _You don’t_ deserve _to be alive._

That wasn’t a particularly unique thought either. She knew that. She knew.

Her hand closed around a dark purple scarf and she wrapped it around her head, so only the oval of her face could be seen. She pinned it so it would take some doing to take it off.

Routine. Custom.

She filled a kettle with water and set it on the stove, laid out a mug and teabag and a bowl and packet of oatmeal.

A few minutes later, with breakfast prepared, she sat down at her rickety table, surrounded by silence and barren simplicity.

Routine. It was warm and familiar, now.

Athalia jumped as a horn blared outside, followed by two voices shouting at each other. _Fearfearfear_ hummed and spiked under her skin and the glaze of her mug cracked.

She cursed and set the mug down. She flexed her hand, willing the pins and needles feeling away.

“By the stars, calm down,” she whispered.

She took a drink when she was sure she wouldn’t break the cup on accident. Or on purpose.

How many dishes had Athalia destroyed over the years out of carelessness, anger, sorrow or fear?

She might as well take her pent-up energy out on one of the walls. It could take more hits, a bigger release. Sure, her landlord would probably evict her if he found out, but if madness was the other option, she would take her chances.

The same horn blasted again, followed by the screeching of tires. She was anticipating it this time, so she didn’t flinch.

Earth was a strange place. Strange and different and familiar and so very noisy.

But she wouldn’t give up her low-lying spot on its soil for anything.

When she first arrived, shaking from hunger and terror, she had feared that she would stick out horribly. She had feared that she would be captured immediately. And then imprisoned or sent back to the hell that was her former home.

She didn’t anticipate how easy it was to blend in, how easy it was to disappear into a crowd.

Humans looked a lot like her, some almost identical to her. But they were not like her.

They were disconnected from each other, mentally. There were no telepathic links, no networks of thoughts and emotions shared among friends and loved ones. Those were the things that were so integral to her being. Now, there was an aching void inside of Athalia, pent-up energy without an outlet.

She poked at her oatmeal, watching the steam rise in wisps. Flavorless. The cheapest they offered at the nearby grocery store.

As she moved across Earth, the first thing she did was change her name. It was a horrible, heartbreaking thing for her to do. She was proud of her family and proud of her name. But fear, fear that her name would bring the demons to her doorstep, kept those words close to her heart.

Athalia, daughter of Yana and Feivel.

Her parents were now treasured memories, faces scratched into her sketchpad. She couldn’t remember the last time her real name was said aloud. She never said it to herself, not even in the silence of her apartment. It was practically a foreign word to her now.

Now, she was named Rosa, a name she heard shouted when she was wandering the streets of Earth. A nondescript name, she assumed, so she could further immerse herself, further hide. It worked so far. No police came, breaking down her door, carting her off to who knows where because she was on their soil illegally.

She adapted, assimilated quickly, learning the native language and the basic customs so no one would be the wiser that she was anything but human. The primary language spoken in this city—Metropolis—was essentially the same as her native language.

The written word, however, was drastically different. But everyone around her assumed that she was a foreigner, so she could get away with not knowing how to read or write well in ‘English’. She obtained a functional understanding, not anywhere close to fluency. She needed it. Without it, she would have starved within a month or forced to make money doing things that didn’t require reading.

She lived, survived. And no one came to take her away. Not that she had incriminating evidence that they could use against her. Only the blood in her veins and a _lot_ of memories.

_Faces blackened and bloated in death. The smell, the awful smell of rotting flesh._

And then there were the marks on her skin, carved out of her flesh.

For a beat, a fraction of an instant, everything hurt. Phantom pain, muscle memory, her own psyche deciding it was a good time to torment her by making her muscles seize in pain. Athalia was glad that she was sitting down or she probably would have collapsed. As soon as the pain came, it left.

Her spoon hit the side of the bowl with a muted clink, one shaking hand coming up to press against the side of her face. While the purple cloth did its job, she knew what lay just underneath it.

And that was what really mattered, wasn’t it? She couldn’t forget about it. Every time she saw herself, she knew. She remembered. All of the fabric in the universe wouldn’t be able to cover and erase that.

Her appetite was gone. She glared at her breakfast like it personally offended her, but she forced herself to eat every bite of lumpy oatmeal and drink every drop of tea.

She had survived for months, years, on less, but she refused— _refused_ —to go back to those days. She had food and drink and she’d be damned if she didn’t take advantage of what little she had.

She collected her things: a rickety easel, pad of paper, box of pencils, two little fold-up chairs.

The constant buzz of activity outside was slowly turning into a roar as people began to move and go about their daily business. It would have been a comforting sound if it didn’t make her feel so nostalgic.

“ _I really need to learn how to stop thinking._ ”

She also needed to stop being so tired all the time.

Athalia started as she stepped out of the apartment, almost running into her elderly neighbor.

“Morning, Rosa,” Marie greeted.

Of all the people Athalia had met in her near three years on Earth, she loved Marie the most. The woman was kind to her, welcomed Athalia with warm food when she first moved into the apartment a few doors away. She never pried, settled for pleasant chit-chat when they had tea and watched television together.

Athalia nodded with a smile, quickly realizing that she was staring at Marie with a blank expression.

“Good morning, Marie. How are you?”

Marie’s dark eyes crinkled in a smile.

“Oh, I’m just fine, dear. Is that a new scarf?”

Athalia’s hand went up to touch the fabric, a wistful expression crossing her face. “I suppose it is. Bought it a few days ago.”

“Very beautiful, like its wearer!”

Athalia blushed at the compliment, tears burning at the back of her eyes.

“ _Beautiful. No one has called me beautiful in a long time._ ”

Athalia pushed down the knot in her throat, suddenly feeling heavy and weighed-down. Her voice almost wavered as she stammered out a thank you.

Marie waved her off, not noticing or politely ignoring Athalia’s sudden change in mood. “Not at all, not at all. Now, you need to come over more often, dear. I don’t remember the last time you came to visit me. I’ll make tea and those cookies you love.”

Yes, Marie was good. She was a good friend. Athalia was lucky to have her in her life as one of the few humans who treated her with genuine kindness and not pity or condescension or outright disgust.

Marie was good, better than what Athalia deserved.

“When are you free?” Athalia asked.

* * *

A plan for tea and a dodging of city crowds later, Athalia was seated outside. There was a corner in the center of the city, at the intersection of a large park, a popular coffee shop and several department stores, which was always bustling with people. It was an ideal place to make money off of tourists and businesspeople on their coffee breaks.

Athalia had worked in the same place every day for almost three years. She would set up the two chairs facing each other and the easel facing out with example artwork clipped to the wood. There were other craftspeople who came and went in the same area, setting up tents and elaborate tables of their work.

She wasn’t close to any of them, not even those who were there daily. Some would stick around for a few months and then leave, never to be seen again.

There had been a couple, Laila and Reese, jeweler and knitter, who had worked there when Athalia first started. They were kind to her, helped her set up on the days when it was clear she was struggling. The two women even offered to buy her food from time to time. But eventually they moved on to start a family. Athalia had to stamp out an ugly nostalgic bitterness when they gushed over a picture of the little girl they were going to adopt.

That had been about a year ago. Those who took their place were not as kind, not as friendly. Athalia didn’t bother reaching out to them, or anyone else. She could only offer strained smiles and greetings that couldn’t be mistaken for enthusiastic.

But she wasn’t there to make friends. She was there to make money and survive.    

On a good day, she could make at least 60 dollars on the portraits. Sometimes, a customer was so impressed they paid her twice the asking price. She would get donations every once in a while, a few dollars out of pity for her seemingly pitiful situation.

Once upon a time, she would have felt insulted. Now, she prayed to the stars that more would come her way.

A semblance of normalcy, a shadow of what she used to do in her old life. The city was filled with life. Though she couldn’t truly connect with anyone, it was some kind of replacement. Not true loneliness.

Time passed. Athalia doodled in her book, a tiny Metropolis skyline slowly taking shape. It was calming, but she kept part of her attention to her display.

After an hour of nothing, only vaguely-sorry glances and glazed-over eyes, a young woman, fair-skinned, blonde hair, and wearing a smart suit, stopped in front of her, squinting at the examples Athalia had put up to entice customers.

Athalia didn’t want to look over-eager at the idea of a customer, but she smiled at the woman, trying not to give off an ‘ _I’m poor and desperate, please give me money_ ’ kind of vibe.

“Very nice,” the woman said.

The compliment startled a smile onto Athalia’s face. “Thanks! Are you interested in a portrait? Only ten dollars.”

That got her a look of contemplation, a beat of hesitation. Athalia’s heart clenched in equal measures of anticipation and dread. She needed the money if she wanted to stay in her little apartment.

Finally, the woman nodded, grinning. “Sounds like a bargain. Alright.”

Athalia smiled softly and gestured to the seat across from the little easel.

“All I need for you is to sit there, sit up straight, and smile. It will only take a few minutes.”

She obeyed, following her instructions to sit tall and still.

“What’s your name?” she asked as Athalia began to draw.

Ah, small talk. Athalia could do small talk. Not looking up from her work, she responded, “I’m Rosa. And yours?”

“Kaitlyn.”

Athalia smiled to herself.

“Kaitlyn. Nice to meet you, Kaitlyn.”

Her pencil skimmed over the paper, forming the curve of the ear, strands of hair.

It was natural, like breathing. Athalia only needed to glance at Kaitlyn a few times to know how to draw her.

 When her world had collapsed, she wasn’t sure she would be able to do this again.

When they came to her home, the cowards without a doubt had torched her studio. Years’ worth of work, gone.

Custom, tradition, the entirety of her culture, was wiped out, burned up and replaced by that of the race of people who apparently hated her people so much that they would enslave and eradicate them.

There was the buzzing again, reaching a pitch that threatened to snap the pencil between her fingers. Athalia caught the tremble that shook up her arm before it could shake her hand and mess up the line.

She collected that anger and the buzzing, balled it up, and threw it as far away as she could, pushing it down far into her subconscious. It couldn’t interfere with her life like this. One mistake, and everything would crumble.

Something breakable was getting broken when she got home.

“Get a hold of yourself,” Athalia berated herself.

“Excuse me?”

Athalia looked up, eyes wide.

“Did you say something?” Kaitlyn continued, expression clearly confused.

Athalia smiled sheepishly, internally kicking herself for saying anything aloud. “Oh, I sometimes mutter to myself when I am drawing. I am almost finished.”

She erased a few stray lines and signed the bottom: her first initial in her native tongue. Of all the things she kept hidden, she allowed herself that much. Not a grandiose expression of her heritage, but enough for her to feel like she was at home for a small instant.

Gently tearing the page off the easel, she revealed the contents.

“Here we are! One portrait!”

Kaitlyn’s eyes roamed over the work, something like happiness floating in her expression.

“Absolutely lovely. Thank you.”

Athalia wanted to cheer as they exchanged: money for the portrait.

Athalia found herself holding fifteen dollars. When she went to thank her customer, Kaitlyn was already turning away.

“Keep the change,” Kaitlyn said offhandedly as she began to walk.

“Thank you and have a good day,” Athalia called out to her back.

* * *

The sun crawled high into the sky, but a breeze lessened its heat. Three more people stopped by, each paying the advertised ten dollars for a portrait.

Feeling the wad of cash in her pant pocket steadily grow brought a sense of pride and happiness. She was doing something right. She was working.

When noontime finally arrived, Athalia began to pack up her things. It was break time.

It gave her an hour to go home, drop off her art supplies, change, have a meager lunch and make her way to the diner several blocks down the street where she worked as a waitress. A seriously underpaid waitress.

She just needed to make at least thirty dollars a day on portraits on top of her waitress salary to keep her head above water. And she made forty-five dollars. A victory.

It was a good day. Even better, she was actually in the mood to eat.

“Maybe I’ll treat myself to some real food,” she murmured to nobody in particular.

She managed to walk a few steps before the ear-shattering sound of an explosion almost sent her to the ground in shock.

One of the perils of living in a big city on Earth, Athalia had realized early on, was that there was a significant amount of crime. Particularly by people of what was regarded as unnatural ability. Metropolis was a haven for them, apparently.

She only heard of the incidents, seen the headlines or watched on the televisions in the diner. Walked past the aftermath, even seen heroes and villains fly overhead.

Athalia thought that maybe she could go back to her apartment and ignore it. The Justice League, the heroes, the ones who saved the world when hostile beings fell from the sky, could handle it. Maybe even the police could handle it.

Then she heard the screaming: screams of fear and pain. And her world tilted on its axis, the ever-present buzzing under her skin returning at a fever-pitch.

_Executed in the streets, blood running red on the ground._

Her feet should have been taking her away from the noise, but they were carrying her towards it. The bag carrying her art supplies fell to the ground from limp fingers.

The dazed stumbling developed into a full-blown run, following the sounds of sirens and the plume of smoke that drifted off a building a few blocks away. Her hands curled into fists, rage heating the hollow of her throat.

_No one helped. Nobody stood up to save your people._

People were running in the opposite direction, bodies slamming into her despite her best attempts to weave around them.

They were helpless against the villains likely attacking. What could they do but run? Turning the corner, Athalia realized why people were panicking.

She immediately recognized the three villains fighting with police and causing general chaos: Sinestro, Tsukuri, and Solomon Grundy. Teams were particularly feared, the damage they could potentially cause increasing hundredfold.

How could she help?

She ducked behind a parked car, trying to figure out a plan.

Should she stay in the background or take a more direct approach? Should she wait until the situation escalates to the point where her help was needed or wait until the League arrives?

The decision was made for her when Grundy picked up a station wagon and flung it into the street, towards a man cowering near where she was hiding.

She popped up from her hiding spot and threw her hand out, energy crackling under her fingertips.

He was flung away, hit by an invisible force, by _her_. He yelped, falling to the ground. The car impacted where he was standing a moment earlier, metal crunching against metal.

She ducked down behind the car again, the rush of it quickening her breath. This was different, exhilarating and it felt so _natural_.  

She did it. She saved someone. And she wanted to laugh aloud at the feeling. And the act seemed to go unnoticed, to her relief.

Not enough though. She knew that saving one man wouldn’t be enough. She could save more people.

But that would require going on the offensive. She knew that it would be an idiot move, but she was being an idiot for getting involved in the first place. Might as well make a legitimate difference. Besides, she was doing fine so far.

She looked out to see Sinestro floating stationary in the air, yellow light writhing around his hands.

“ _Aim for his arm_.”

Out of his line of sight, she struck, hoping that her aim was good enough to hit his limb at that distance. She felt it connect as much as she saw it, his arm being shoved just before he attacked.

The sound of concrete being smashed—not flesh—told her that she succeeded. It was a cheap shot, but it worked. Sinestro whipped around, looking for the source, as Athalia ducked back, hoping that he didn’t catch a glance of her.

He was distracted, if for a moment. It would be enough for the police officers to regroup a little.

Athalia didn’t move from where she was huddled, not making a sound.

One beat, two beats passed.

The roof of the car exploded in a flash of yellow light and a screech of grinding metal and shattering glass. Athalia swallowed a cry of fear, the damage only a few feet from her head.

“ _Stars. Stars! He knows where I am!_ ”

Boom!

The car rocked and tilted, threatening to tip over on top of Athalia. She scrambled forward, blindly.

Only to find that she had run out of cover.

“Would you look at that? A newcomer!” Sinestro shouted over the ringing of Athalia’s ears.

She swore under her breath. She was out in the open, exposed.

Athalia straightened, turning fully to face the enemy. Now, her instincts were telling her to run and her hands were twitching by her sides, ready to strike in self-defense. She was not afraid of them, she was not afraid of them, she was not afraid.

“Tsukuri, deal with her,” Sinestro crowed as he continued to wreak havoc on the police force.

The swordswoman advanced on her swiftly, leaving Athalia little time to figure out a plan. Her sword glinted in the noon sun, the edge already stained copper.

Athalia’s breathing hitched in fear, despite the calm façade she forced on her face.

This was definitely not what she had signed up for when she decided that she wanted to help. Save and protect people, yes. Not battle with anyone. And Athalia couldn’t hide from her or outrun her. She would get a blade to the back if she tried.

Tsukuri got within a few yards of her when Athalia stepped back and struck out. The invisible force struck the woman dead-on, sending her flying into a nearby car. Tsukuri’s body hit with a harsh sound, her head smacking against metal, and she crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Athalia felt a rush of victory, coupled by an unsettling sense of familiarity and almost pity for Tsukuri.

She didn’t like hurting people. She really didn’t.

“The kitten has claws.” Sinestro exclaimed, regaining Athalia’s attention. His eyebrows almost to his hairline in surprise that Tsukuri was taken down so easily.

While Athalia outwardly bristled at his mocking words, she was inwardly panicking. She had made herself a threat to them. And they would fight her with strength to match hers, if not more.

“Is that the best you got?” Athalia yelled. It was less of an attempt to intimidate Sinestro and more of a morale booster for herself. If her voice shook, she couldn’t tell.

“I will deal with you myself!” he growled, giving a condescending look in Tsukuri’s direction.

Athalia stepped back as Sinestro flew closer, fear making her hands shake.

Where was the Justice League? They should be fighting these villains, not her.

Sinestro collected his signature yellow energy in his hands, face twisting in rage, and fired directly at Athalia.

She held up her hands, energy solidifying to something like a shield a few inches from her fingertips. She could deflect it, maybe, if her abilities were at least equal to his. If not, he would hit her, likely fatally.

The beam connected and glanced off, blowing a hole into a nearby police car. The force of the impact travelled up her arm to her head, making her wince in pain.

He sent another, this time with more force. Athalia scrambled out of the way, the beam frying the air where she had been standing moments before.

She needed to buy herself more time or find a way out of this that didn’t include her getting wounded or killed.

Turning to the offensive, she struck out as hard as she could. Sinestro dove down, her attack passing harmlessly over his head. The psychic blast struck the building behind him, sending shards of window exploding onto the street.

Athalia doubled back, power buzzing in her hands, up her arms and curled around the base of her skull. Sinestro bellowed in anger, trying to keep from being cut by the glass. He regarded her with pure contempt, lashing out as she did the same.

Two forces connected with a thunderous boom.

Athalia staggered as she released the burst of energy, leaning against a car hood. That didn’t feel good. Not at all. The buzzing in her hands was turning into a burning, now. Her head pounded, ears ringing.

“ _Not gonna last too long like this._ ”

“Not so tough, are you, you little brat?” Sinestro yelled, sounding only slightly winded.

He opened his mouth, probably to spit more vitriol, when something behind Athalia caught his attention, making something, maybe fear, cross his face.

Athalia didn’t dare turn around, but a bright green light whizzing over her head answered her unasked question.

The Justice League was here.

Green Lantern and Hawkgirl flew into view, connecting with Sinestro and Solomon Grundy. Athalia took in a breath of relief, a strange sound amongst the renewed sound of battle and violence.

She felt strung out and dizzy, an aching heaviness cloaking her.

“ _The battle is over for me. They can take over_ ,” she thought victoriously.

Then the hairs on the back of her neck rose up. Something was wrong.

Athalia whipped around, eyes wide, ready to defend herself.

The large frame of the Martian Manhunter loomed over her. His arm was outstretched, like he just caught something. In his hand was a throwing knife, one of Tsukuri’s. The sharp end was pointed at her back, only a few inches from her skin.

Athalia paled, staring up at her unlikely savior. He saved her. She had been vulnerable to the attack. She wouldn’t have known about it until the knife was sticking out of her back.

He let the knife fall to the ground with a metallic clatter, red eyes unreadable.

His eyes glowed and her heart skipped a beat.

She didn’t know what to say. Panic and adrenaline took any words of thanks and strangled them before they could leave her mouth.

He just stared at her, some strange pressure between them. He wasn’t looking into her mind. She would know if he was trying. Then, what was he—

He looked away, shooting into the air to join his comrades.

Her shoulders sagged as she watched the Martian enter the fray. Then her eyes fell to the knife on the ground.

“ _She must have thrown it at my back when I wasn’t paying attention. I could have been killed_ ,” Athalia thought.

“ _Why did I think this was a good idea?_ ” she reprimanded herself.

Her head pounded as she wiped the back of her hand under her nose, skin coming back with a bloody streak.

“ _Run._ ”

Ducking and weaving among debris, she made it to clear streets.

And she did what she did best: she ran. She ran as fast as she could.


	2. In A Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2, here we are!  
> Thank you to everyone who left feedback on Chapter 1. It is much appreciated!  
> Enjoy!  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize blah blah blah don’t sue me DC I’m not worth it.

The sounds of chaos were slowly fading behind her.

Athalia’s feet carried her through the streets as if on auto-pilot, weaving her between traffic and people, shouts of displeasure and blaring horns falling on deaf ears.

No one moved to stop her, though, most only stared at her like she was a raving lunatic.

Perhaps she was. She was a lunatic for getting a fight that she knew she couldn’t win, not alone. Or maybe it was because of the blood streaming down her nose and onto her chest. That might have deterred people.

Her head pounded, as if someone was smashing stones against her skull, as if Sinestro’s attacks had physically struck her. She made a mistake. She made a _huge_ mistake.

She had never tried something like that before and now she knew why she shouldn’t have. It hurt _a lot_.

“ _Why did I get involved? Why did I have to try and be a hero?_ ” she silently berated herself.

She was tired. Utterly exhausted. But she couldn’t stop running. She couldn’t stop. She wasn’t safe on these streets.

Periodically looking back to see if she was being followed, she didn’t stop until she reached the apartment building. She practically flew up the stairs, nearly tripping several times. Her ragged breaths echoed down the empty hallways.

“What have I done? What have I done?” she breathed.

_Reckless. Idiotic. Stupid._

Her hands were shaking wildly, making it a chore to get her key to unlock the door into her apartment. Finally, the door opened and she practically fell inside the familiar, safe place.

But she wasn’t safe. Not anymore. She revealed herself to the world and they would come for her.

Who ‘they’ were, she didn’t know for sure and she dreaded finding out.

The door slammed shut, the lock clicking immediately afterwards.

It was quiet, the only sound her frantic breathing. Now, she wasn’t exactly sure what she was supposed to do.

A violent swooping sensation made the decision for her. Athalia staggered to the kitchen sink and threw up what little was in her stomach, retching pathetically into the silence. Her skin felt clammy and tight.

The gagging petered off to gasping half-sobs. Fingers curled over the cheap off-white of the sink in a fierce, trembling grip. She wanted to break it. She wanted to break everything. She wanted to lash out with her mind again and again until she could feel anything anymore.

The humming was gone now, replaced with an aching. Like she had overextended a muscle, if that muscle was her entire body and her mind.

Washing the bile down the drain and wiping the tacky blood from her face, Athalia thought of the dilemma now facing her and tried to stamp out the panic and anxiety rolling around in her now-empty stomach.

She wasn’t sure where she was supposed to go. Being in one place for so long, she had almost forgotten what it was like to be hunted like an animal.

Almost.

_Huddling in the dark, praying that she may go unnoticed. Praying until the noise of the hunters faded into the distance._

* * *

The metal money box she had stashed underneath her dresser. Her sketchbooks and her spare set of pencils. A small leather sack, empty and rumpled. Toiletries. What few sets of clothes she owned. A blanket and thin pillow.

Every belonging that mattered was thrown into a duffel bag. She lived a poor life in the apartment, very few possessions, so it was easy to pack.

By the time she finished, she realized that another dilemma had arisen.

“ _Where will I go?_ ” she frantically wondered.

It wasn’t as if she made many connections throughout the three years she had lived in Metropolis. Anonymity was great until she actually needed people.

Laila and Reese were gone. And there was no one like them in the square.

Her co-workers at the diner didn’t give a damn about her. In fact, they liked to gossip about her behind her back. A lot of talk about the fabrics that covered her head every day, her faint and strange accent, the color of her skin.

The landlord didn’t care much for her either, as long as she paid the rent on time.

That left one other person: Marie.

She lived two doors down. Athalia would be hiding practically in plain sight.

“ _It was probably a stupid idea, but nobody would expect it, right?_ ” she thought.

Even as the plan formed in her mind, she was having second thoughts: could she burden one of her only friends in this world with her problems? Put her in danger?

Marie wouldn’t refuse her. The woman was kind to her as soon as Athalia had taken residence on the floor, inviting her for dinner in the first week, despite Athalia’s initial wariness. Marie had looked at a skittish woman and saw a friend.

She was the closest thing Athalia had to family. And there weren’t any other options. She had no one else.

Swinging the duffel bag over her shoulder, she waited a few moments outside her front door, listening for anyone walking down the hallway, and stepped out, not looking back.

Athalia knocked three times on the door and shuffled anxiously on her feet as listened to faint rustling behind the wood. Marie was home, but she wanted to get in before anyone could see her.

The door opened and Marie was revealed, kind smile on her face. Athalia almost broke down at the sight. There she was: a friend, a friend, a friend.

“Oh, hello Rosa. Shouldn’t you be at work?”

Athalia cringed as the old woman looked her over, the animal-like brightness of her eyes, the bulky-looking bag slung over her shoulder, the dried blood on her clothes. Marie’s smile slid from her face.

“My God, are you alright?” Marie asked, eyes pinching with concern.

Athalia finally unstuck her tongue from the roof of her mouth.

“Marie, I need to ah—ah stay at your place for a little while. Only a day or two. Something came up and—,” she trailed off.

Marie blinked and moved aside. “In, quickly.”

No questions asked. Of course. Athalia shouldn’t have expected anything less.

She stepped in, standing in the middle of the well-kept living space. She felt too big for her body, like at any second she was going to burst and break something.

The aching was turning back to the humming, something more normal. But she was still so afraid. Why was she there? She should be running for the hills and into the shadows, but she was in Marie’s apartment.

What sort of selfish monster burdens their friends like this?

“Rosa, are you okay?” Marie spoke up.

“That’s not my name.” The words burst from Athalia mouth before she could stop herself. Her arms came up and crossed over her chest, as if holding herself together. Stiff, unmoving, refusing to turn to face the woman who was giving her, a liar, help.

Marie moved to stand in front of her, lightly touching her elbow.

“What is your name?”

Athalia flinched away from the touch, unable to look her in the eye.

Her name. So important to her, clutched greedily and fearfully to her heart for so long.

Could she trust Marie with that? Her name had not been spoken aloud on Earth. To say it would make it real. It would make her otherness, the immutable fact that she wasn’t from Earth and not human, real.

Athalia steeled herself. Marie earned that much. She earned so much more than what Athalia could give her. She could give her this: a little piece of the truth.

“Athalia.”

The word was meek and quiet, but each syllable rolled off of her tongue, as if it hasn’t been years since she had said it aloud. She sucked into a breath, courage of another kind straightening her spine.

“My name is Athalia.”

The words hung in the air, an offering, a release. Marie smiled, to Athalia’s great surprise.

“Athalia. That is a beautiful name.”

Athalia smiled back, almost hesitantly, heart turning in her chest.

“I haven’t heard someone else say my real name in a long time,” she whispered.

It felt so good. To hear her name spoken aloud by someone else. She was glad it was Marie. Of all the people, Athalia wanted it to be her. She had her name again.

_Everyone you love is dead. You have no name now. You only have your work. Now, work, you filthy dogs!_

Athalia’s smile faded quickly as realization of her situation reinserted itself in her mind.

“What’s wrong? Did you get into some sort of trouble?” Marie questioned, noticing the sudden change in her mood.

Oh, right, Marie had no idea. She probably thought Athalia had gotten into trouble with the gangs or drug dealers that lurked in the building and around the surrounding neighborhood. They were generally creeped out by Athalia and left her alone.  

Wordlessly, Athalia grabbed a remote and turned on the television. She flicked through the channels to find the local news. Camera footage of a battle, the battle in front of the Bank of Metropolis, flashed on screen. Then it turned back to a young reporter with wreckage still smoking in the background.

“This mysterious woman was seen fending off Tsukuri, Sinestro, and Solomon Grundy before the Justice League arrived on the scene. The Justice League has confirmed that this woman is not a member, nor have they worked together in the past. She fled the scene soon after they arrived and hasn’t been seen since. We have interviewed witnesses who say that this woman has often been seen selling portraits on nearby street corners.”

A picture of a woman with a purple headscarf flashed onto the screen.

“Here again is a picture of this woman.”

It was a little grainy. She was moving when it was taken, but it was clearly her face.

“ _Now the whole of the city knows who I am and what I look like_ ,” Athalia thought.

Marie stared at her, shock written plainly on her face. The younger woman flinched, hoping that it was only shock and not condemnation.

There it was. The truth was out there.

“How?” Marie asked.

“I’m not human.” Athalia croaked. “I’m not from Earth. I can _do_ things with my mind. That’s how I could—that’s why I could.”

She gestured helplessly at the television.

It took all Athalia’s strength not to spill out her life story right then and there. She wanted to be sick. She wanted to rip open the old and festering wounds and let them bleed until she was left with blissful nothingness.

“Please don’t tell anyone. Please, I don’t—I’m afraid,” Athalia whispered, desperation in her eyes.

What could she do if Marie turned her away? The very idea of it was so painful.

Athalia waited for a rebuke. She waited to be cast out, like the alien that she was. But a dark, age-weathered hand landed on her shoulder, a comforting gesture that made Athalia’s heart clench.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure nobody finds you.”

Athalia almost collapsed at the lack of judgment, the silent acceptance. She made the right choice. And she let herself be guided towards the bathroom, Marie’s grip gentle and firm.

“Go clean yourself up. The shower is all yours,” Marie offered.

Athalia hesitated, fingers twisting the handles of her lumpy duffel bag.

“I just need a little time to figure out where I’m going to go,” she called out.

That was what she needed. Time.

Marie didn’t turn around as she ambled back to the kitchen.

“Nonsense, you can stay as long as you _want_. Now, go shower.”

Smiling at the old woman’s thinly-veiled order, Athalia closed the door behind her. And just like that, she was alone.

The bathroom was small, the same size as her own, but it was vaguely comforting in its cleanliness and decoration. Athalia felt out-of-place, as she did in Marie’s living room.

She leaned heavily against the sink and stared into the mirror.

Her eyes were blood-shot from the stress of using her abilities, making her eyes look more green than anything else. A flush stained the light brown of her face. Bitterness churned in her stomach, the headache she tried to forget reemerging.

She inspected her hands and thin fingers.

Pieces of dirt and gravel dug underneath her fingernails, pencil dust staining the sides of her hands grey. Some of her skin had been rubbed raw and cut.

 

Panic rose up, vice-like around her throat.

What good was she without her hands?

_Filth. Dirt. That is what you are. And this is where you belong._

“Shut up,” Athalia hissed as she scrubbed her hands under the faucet water until her fingernails were clean, perfect curves. Her broken skin stung from the hot water and soap, but it felt rather grounding. And everything was sort of right in the world again.

Her eyes flickered to the door. She had locked it, but a paranoid feeling forced her to double and triple check before she even thought about undressing.

After making sure the door was locked, she unpinned and unraveled her scarf, her hair falling down her back in a tangled mess. Stress and pain had aged her. That much was evident in the white and grey mixing with the brown of her hair.

Shame. Disgust.

A reminder, to be hidden from the world.

The rest of her clothes followed, set on the sink top.

The clothes were slightly damp with sweat, the chest of her shirt dotted brown with dried blood. She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

A wadded-up dollar bill fell on the ground and she sighed. Right, she forgot about that.

Pride had turned to possessiveness. Possessiveness and fear. Her money, her way of survival. Hers, hers, hers.

She dug out the rest of the money from her pants and placed it on the counter.

Finally, she cleaned herself, trying to relax as the hot water did its work.

Pollution sluiced down the drain along with the white soap bubbles.

She cut the shower short, as much as she wanted to stay under the stream of water and pretend that everything was okay. She didn’t want to take advantage of Marie’s kindness and raise her water bill. She toweled herself off.

She dressed quickly, still afraid that Marie would come in and see her. Fresh clothes covered more secrets, a simple curtain over the reminders of her eternal shame.

Her hands twitched, wanting to run through strands of her hair, along the sides of her face, over the plane of her back.

Reminders. Permanent and immutable. Stress and pain.

Telling Marie her real name was only a fraction of the secrets she hid. To burden Marie with all of her secrets would be a horrible and selfish thing.

It was her burden and her pain. She would handle it alone.

Her hand closed around the wad of cash on the countertop and crammed it into her pocket. She grabbed her bag. And she stepped out.

* * *

Five hours, a heavy duty dose of aspirin, and a mug of tea later, Athalia lounged on Marie’s sofa. The television provided a steady source of background noise.

Marie was too kind to her. It felt foreign being doted on.

Despite all that, Athalia’s nerves still felt frayed and hyper-sensitive, her bones leadened, her hands still not steady. Nearly spilling hot tea into her lap told her that.

And her mind couldn’t stop going over what had occurred again and again, what could have happened. The fear and exhilaration of what she did, the terror of what almost was.

She could almost _feel_ Tsukuri’s blade piercing her back. Metal crunching through skin and muscle and bone.

“ _I could have died. I should have died. How many second chances at life am I going to get before death finally takes me?_ ” she lamented.

Part of her was angry at the Martian Manhunter for saving her. If it was her fate to die, so be it. She would have welcomed it. He shouldn’t have interfered.

And now she owed him: a life debt. Life debts were not a thing on Earth like they were on her home planet. She could probably get away with him never cashing in on the debt, at least not directly.

The Justice League seemed honorable, unwilling to take advantage of people like her.

That didn’t mean she wanted to cross paths with them again. They could send her off the planet if they wanted to, back to where she had fled three years earlier.

Athalia sighed heavily and rubbed her face with the palms of her hands.

“ _I still haven’t figured out what I am supposed to do._ ”

Go south most likely, since she had initially ended up in the northern United States. She would find another city, a large city where she could disappear. She could find an apartment and cheap work. Maybe she could sell her artwork again when people forgot who she was.

Okay, a bare-bones plan. She had no idea how to get out of the city without drawing attention. She had no idea where she could go, what city.  

An unsettlingly familiar voice coming from the television grabbed her attention.

She knew the woman being interviewed; her name was Lacey, one of the waitresses that worked at Athalia’s now-former job. Stars, Athalia hated her.

Lacey was almost ten years Athalia’s junior and yet Lacey treated her like she was an idiot. She would hiss things at her behind her back.

The blonde stood on screen with a falsely bubbly expression Athalia was all too familiar with. A reporter, different from the one that had been reporting hours earlier, pressed a microphone close to her face. 

“So, you knew her?” the reporter asked.

Lacey nodded earnestly at him and at the camera. “Oh, yeah, Rosa and me, we were close. Nobody never knew that she could do this, but she had her secrets.”

 _Rage_ seared and itched under Athalia’s skin. It took everything that she had not to blow a hole in Marie’s television.

That woman never treated her once with kindness and now it was like they were best friends. 

And of course the reporter didn’t push the truthfulness of her words. The world would believe her. Why wouldn’t they? Athalia wasn't there to refute her story. 

Maybe it was an attempt to smoke her out of hiding. It was working. All she wanted to do was find the nearest newsperson and tell them that, no, she wasn't treated with respect at her work. Her coworkers had no idea about who she was. They hated her. They did know that she was desperate for money, which gave them license to torment her. She wouldn't risk her job by defending herself.

How much of herself did she keep hidden?

Her hands clenched into fists, determination burning in her veins.

She survived once, she would survive again.

And yet…

Athalia turned onto her side and shut her eyes, willing calm over her body.

She slept for only a handful of minutes before she sat up, heart pounding.

Something was wrong.

She could feel it, like static electricity running down her neck, feeding into the energy humming anew in her fingertips. This wasn’t adrenaline or paranoia. She knew that what she was feeling was real.

Wrong, out of place, dangerous.

She was in danger.

They had tracked her down. They were looking for her. Who ‘they’ were, she still didn’t know. The villains she fought earlier, here to finish what they started? Justice League or the government, ready to ship her back to her home planet where only death awaited her?

_Devoid of sunshine. The cloying smell of sweat and illness and death._

“ _I can’t go back. I can’t return there. I would sooner die than return there._ ”

She jerked to her feet, her leg colliding loudly with the coffee table.

Marie poked her head out from the other room, concern plain on her face. “Ro—Athalia?”

The younger woman shook where she stood, paralyzed by fear.

It was too soon. They weren’t supposed to find the apartment so quickly.

“They’re here for me,” Athalia whispered.

Marie’s eyes widened, fear mirroring hers.

“What? Who?”

Athalia shook her head, panic rising. “I don’t know. I don’t know who’s here, but I know—I _know_ they are here for me. I have to leave.”

_Rotting. Rotting flesh. Bulging eyes. So cold and dark._

Marie crossed the room and gripped her arm, old eyes full of fire.

“Take the fire escape in the bedroom.”

Athalia hesitated for a beat and embraced Marie, the older woman gripping her like a lifeline.

“Thank you, Marie, for everything.”

The older woman squeezed her before letting go. “Good luck, Athalia. Hurry.”

Athalia hefted her duffel bag and scurried over to the bedroom. Her fingers undid the window latch and she stepped onto the fire escape. As quickly and quietly as possible, she descended towards the street.

The sun was setting, the streets darkening as if to aid in her escape

No sooner did her feet touch the ground did the hair on the back of her neck raise.

Athalia looked up as a black mass swooped down, near-silent, from the adjacent building’s rooftop. It was Batman. And he was coming straight at her.

Her answer had come. It was the Justice League. They were here for her. But she didn’t know _why_. Take her into custody? Imprison her? She didn’t know, couldn’t know. What could she do?

Fight or flight. Fight _and_ flight.

Stiffening in fear, she lashed out, the force of energy smashing against him and sending him careening through a window and into the building.

Then, she ran. Well, she walked quickly through the streets of Metropolis, slipping into the crowds.

“ _Great. Awesome. Fantastic! I attacked a Justice League member. I’m the villain now!_ ”

The headscarf practically painted a target on her back, a recognizable marker, but taking it off wasn’t an option. Ditching her duffel bag wasn’t either.

All she had was the hope that maybe they wouldn’t attack her in public. But the streets slowly darkened, simultaneously a help and hindrance. She could hide, but they could sneak up on her just as well.

After travelling several blocks, she couldn’t see any League members at all. It was hard for her to believe that she managed to outrun them. But she had managed to stun Batman, so maybe she had the upper hand. And whoever was at Marie’s door was still in the apartment by the time she started to run.

Athalia ducked into an alley to catch her breath and regroup. She covered her face with her hands and exhaled shakily.

So, the Justice League was after her. Great. If highly trained villains couldn’t escape them, what chance did she have?

Athalia waited, as stressful as it was. She didn’t rest her duffel onto the ground for a moment, despite the pain that started to bloom along her shoulder.

She was ready to defend herself, ready to run.

This was not how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to have time, a plan, something, before she left Marie’s apartment for good. Now, she was disoriented and had picked a random direction to travel while fleeing the Justice League.

Cautiously, she peeked her head out. This wasn’t the street she was used to walking, but the skyscrapers in the center of the city looked closer than they did from her apartment.

Great. She had headed further towards downtown, the opposite of where she wanted to go. But at least she knew where she was, sort of.

Athalia wanted to get _out_ of the city, but she couldn’t make a beeline towards the outskirts. They would be expecting that, wouldn’t they? She needed to be unpredictable.

She stepped back out onto the sidewalk and began to walk, keeping her head down. The further she got from the city’s heart, the fewer people there were on the streets. And those that were probably wouldn’t bother messing with her.

So far, so good. She felt less panicked, no longer in a pure fight-or-flight mode. Of course, the energy was still there, ever-present. But this time it felt comforting with the knowledge that she had some way of defending herself.

After a while, she crossed the street and into the alleyway directly across from her. She did that a few times: into an alleyway, cross the street, into another alleyway.

She still kept part of her attention toward the night sky, not just on the streets. Anyone and everyone knew that a majority of the Justice League members could fly.

They could swoop down and take her at any moment. Just like how Batman tried. And it was unlikely that she would able to get away with the maneuver she made against Batman again.

Night had quickly closed over the city. Athalia couldn’t see the stars in the sky. That was another of the burdens living in a city like Metropolis. A chilling breeze cut through the streets.

She wanted to dig into her duffel and get her coat. But she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t stop moving. She needed to get out of the city limits, somehow.

“ _Which direction am I even going? With my luck, it isn’t south_.”

Athalia wasn’t sure which would be worse, silent streets or busy streets. Now, the streets were leaning towards silent. There were cars here and there. There weren’t a lot of people and those that were either had their eyes on their phones or not on her.

So far, so good. No one recognized her or tried to stop her.

She started crossing the street when a chill crawled up her spine. A chill, not from the cold air around her. It was a warning.

She darted across the street and back into the shadows.

Athalia jerked her head up, eyes searching the sky for a source. Something. But the skies were empty and silent. But she feels the fear again, the buzzing that made her hands shake.

“ _Stars, I will drive myself insane with paranoia._ ”

She continued down the sidewalk, walked up two blocks, crossed the street, and ducked into another alley.

“ _Why is this happening to me? Why?_ ”

For one horrible moment, she wished she hadn’t gotten involved in the first place. She wished she had left those people to deal with the villains alone.

But how many lives would have been lost if she hadn’t interfered?

Athalia shouldered her bag and started further down the alleyway, passing by a homeless man huddled near a dumpster. He was muttering something about stars.

She stopped halfway through, leaning against a small stack of crates. So tired and sore. She wanted to curl on the ground and sleep. She wanted to find her way back to Marie’s and camp there for the night. There were so many things she wanted to do that just weren’t an option.

“Excuse me, miss,” a rough voice sounded behind her.

Athalia froze, turning back to the homeless man. He had dark skin and sad eyes and rumpled clothes.

He reached out towards her. His fingernails were dirty and cracked, but his hands didn't shake. "Spare some money?"

Athalia hesitated. She needed money to get out of the city and begin a new life. She got closer, rummaging through her pockets.

They watched each other as she found what she needed.

She stared at the ten-dollar bill in her hands for a moment and held it out to him.

“Get yourself a sandwich or something,” she muttered.

He leaned forward, but gripped her wrist instead of the money in her hand. She stiffened, but didn’t recoil. Not yet, despite the instinct to strike out and run as fast as she could.

“What’s your name, miss?” he asked.

Athalia blinked down at him, utterly confused. “ _He wants to know_ that?”

It didn’t make sense to Athalia. Of the things he could say, it was that? And the way he was staring at her was very unnerving and vaguely familiar. Not malicious, but not exactly friendly. Not a good sign. Not at all. Anger replaced confusion. He was wasting her time. She needed to leave.

“None of your—,” she hissed, trying to pull away. But his grip was like iron, almost bruising in its tightness. He was so much stronger than her, even though he looked old and starved.

Panic flared icy-hot in Athalia’s chest as she tried to pull away. The buzzing was back, fear making it sharper and more potent. “Let me go!”

She wanted to hit him, enough so she could get away. They were close, so it would hurt a lot. But he seemed so sad and weary that the very idea of causing him pain made her feel physically sick. She could attack Sinestro and Tsukuri just fine. But a homeless man?

Athalia pleaded, “Please, I don’t want to hurt you.”

His eyes glowed red as his grip loosened. Athalia gasped and stumbled back, holding her now freed hand close to her chest.

“No,” she whispered.

Of course. He was the Martian Manhunter.

Athalia swore at herself for being so dense. Martians were shape-shifters. Even she, the one who never paid attention in school, knew that. He must have doubled back and been able to intercept her.

The “homeless man” started to stand, his features shifting and changing shade. Athalia didn’t stick around to watch, turning on her heel and sprinting for the other end of the alleyway.

Athalia made it out into the street, nearly getting hit by a taxi. She dodged around it, running into another alley.

There was the sound of rustling feathers overhead, but she didn’t dare look. And then Hawkgirl pounced down, landing lightly in front of her at the end of the alleyway.

Athalia skidded to a halt, whipping around to see that the Martian had caught up with her, blocking her other exit.

“Oh no,” she breathed.

Fear quickly turned into hopelessness. She was trapped on both sides. No way would she be able to fight her way out of this.

And the League closed in on her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we close on a cliffhanger. Not much of a cliffhanger if you had read the pre-revised version, but a cliffhanger nonetheless.  
> Any and all feedback is appreciated!  
> Thanks to Purveyor of Word for beta-ing this <3  
> Cheers!  
> ~Tiara of Sapphires


	3. Confrontations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone who left feedback! It’s all much appreciated! <3  
> Enjoy!  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize blah blah blah don’t sue me DC I’m not worth it.

The fear was back and Athalia stretched her hand out towards the green man in front of her, as if to ward him off. Energy flickered just under her fingertips. But she knew it wouldn’t have done much. She knew about Martians and how powerful they could be. She stood no chance against him.

“Stay away from me!” she spat, trying to mask the fear with anger. Fear was winning out quickly, fire doused by tears. The urge to fight had drained out of her.

The Martian held up his hands passively, nonthreateningly. The same hands that saved her life earlier that day.

“It’s okay. We don’t want to hurt you. We just want to talk,” he said.

Talk? They chase her through the streets like she’s some kind of animal and they want to _talk_? She glanced back to look at Hawkgirl, who had her mace in a loose grip by her side. And at the corner of her eye, she could see Batman, standing on the rooftop, unmoving and watching.

Athalia turned back to the Martian. “Talk about what?” Athalia asked, refusing to relax. She knew the answer, but she wanted to be sure.

“We want to talk about what happened in front of the Metropolis bank earlier today.”

Of course. The bank. And her dumb idea to get involved.

“There isn’t anything to talk about. You were there. You know what happened. Just, leave me alone!” she shouted, wincing at her voice shook and cracked.

Silence descended for a few beats. Athalia could hear her heart racing in her ears. She wanted to lash out. She wanted to run. She wanted to melt into the ground and disappear.

“ _What are they waiting for?_ ”

“You did an impressive job, for a newbie,” Hawkgirl spoke up.

Athalia didn’t dare turn around to look at her, even reply. She kept her eyes fixed on the Martian. He was the biggest threat and she’d be a fool to let her guard down for a moment around him.

“Can you answer one question?” he asked.

Athalia hesitated. She didn’t want to talk, much less answer any questions. She just wanted to melt into the ground and disappear. That wasn’t an option, so she just shrugged. “Depends on the question.”

He took that as a ‘yes’. “Why did you go and face them? Why put yourself in harm’s way?”

Athalia raised an eyebrow, grumbling, “That was two questions.”

Athalia immediately wanted to kick herself for opening her mouth. She heard Hawkgirl sigh, almost groan, behind her.

“Great. This one has an attitude,” the bird-woman murmured.

Athalia wasn’t sure what she meant, but didn’t want to ask. Being a bit of a wisecrack got her into a lot of trouble when she was little. And it wasn’t a good time for that quirk to come out and show its face.

Martian Manhunter amended, “Just the first question, then.”

Athalia’s foot ground against the pavement as she suddenly couldn’t look at him in the eye. She couldn’t find a good explanation as to why she got involved. It was instinct, stupid, idiot instinct.

“I—I couldn’t just stand by when I could help. It was stupid of me, but…I couldn’t stop myself.”

Listening to the screaming had drawn her in like a magnet. Every instinct that told her to run had been overridden by the urge to help.

A heavy silence followed her words. Athalia didn’t understand why. She gave her answer. What more did they want from her?

“How can you do this? Move things with your mind.”

Athalia shifted, glancing towards the ground. He was asking her all of the questions she didn’t have a coherent answer to. She couldn’t explain it even if she wanted to. She was sure there were scientists from her home who had explained out how her kind were able to have psychic abilities. But she never read about it. Why would she? She was an artist, not a scientist.

“Call it biology,” she muttered.

The Martian tilted his head in apparent confusion. “So you were born with these abilities.”

Athalia nodded, unsure why he would be confused about that.

“That is strange,” he said, “Humans usually aren’t born with gifts like yours.”

“You think I’m human?” The words burst from Athalia, unchecked. Fear ripped through on its heels, making her breath catch in her throat, when she realized what that implied. It was the truth, she didn’t mean to reveal it that fast.

The Martian shifted, a tiny twitch. “You aren’t human,” he stated. Not a question, but a statement.

Athalia bit back a curse. Well, she couldn’t go back on what she said. Now she had no choice but to tell the truth.

“No. I’m not human.” Athalia’s voice wasn’t as steady as she had hoped.

“What are you, then?” Hawkgirl asked.

Athalia bristled, rubbing her arms. Why did they care? She was trapped. Why weren’t they arresting her yet? It didn’t matter what she was or planet she came from. “What’s it to you?”

“Huh, someone’s defensive.”

“Hawkgirl, please.”

“I kept quiet,” Athalia pled, hoping for some kind of mercy. “I never showed my—my abilities in public until today. Nobody else knew about them until today.”

“ _And I’m regretting it every second._ ”

She shuffled on her feet, the urge to run twitching through her limbs. She was just waiting for them to finally arrest her. They had no reason not to.

“You aren’t the only one who has abilities like yours.”

“I’m aware of that.” She gestured stiffly at him.

Earth was home to people with different powers and abilities, capable of things Athalia didn’t think were possible.

“I’m not a hero. I’m not like you,” Athalia said.

She told herself that over and over. She wasn’t a hero. She was at the right place and the right time. It didn’t make her a hero.

“You were willing to help people. You didn’t expect anything in return.”

He wasn’t wrong so she didn’t argue. She really hadn’t expected anything in return. She supposed people would call that selfless or heroic. But she didn’t think so.

“So?” she muttered.

Why were they praising her? They should be arresting her. This conversation was going somewhere but she had no idea where.

The Martian shocked her, saying, “What if you could be part of something bigger?”

Athalia almost cringed at the thought. She _had_ been part of something bigger than herself. She couldn’t have that again. She knew that. So what could they possibly mean by ‘something bigger’?

Confusion curled into Athalia’s already muddled emotions. “What do you mean? I don’t understand.”

Hawkgirl made an exasperated noise.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, J’onn, quit dancing around the issue,” Hawkgirl said. “Look, we want you to join the Justice League.”

Athalia blinked, her posture slackening in shock.

“You—I— _what_?” Athalia stammered, inelegant.

“ _Did she just ask me that? Was she serious?_ ”

“You do speak English, right?” Athalia could hear the impatience in Hawkgirl’s voice. “We want you to join the Justice League.” ~~~~

Nobody spoke up to contradict her.

“You—you _aren’t_ going to arrest me?” Athalia asked. She was dumbfounded. This wasn’t how she expected this encounter to go at all.

“Why would we do that?” the Martian asked.

Athalia didn’t have an answer. Despite telling herself over and over that they were going to arrest her, she couldn’t think up a reason as to why. So she shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“What did you do wrong?” he pressed.

“I don’t know!” Athalia burst out. She wanted to disappear. She wanted to run and hide. “Isn’t it wrong for me to be like this on Earth? I’m an—an alien and I can do things with my mind. Don’t people like me get arrested?”

“Not necessarily. You weren’t hurting anyone.”

“I could hurt people,” she mumbled. That much was clear. If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have walked away from the initial fight. She had to hurt people. She hurt Tsukuri and even though the woman tried to kill her, Athalia couldn’t help but feel unclean in the face of it.

“You have the ability to do good things,” he said.

Good things. Be a hero. Right.

“I don’t get it!” Athalia raised her voice.

It didn’t make sense. Why would they want her? What made her so special that they wanted her? She was just wasn’t a superhero. She was nothing.

“You don’t know anything about me, don’t even know my name, and you are willing to just let me into the Justice League?” Athalia asked, trying to hide her shaking hands.

“We know your name: Rosa. That’s a start,” Hawkgirl said.

Athalia exhaled in a nervous laugh, shaking her head. Right. The one thing they knew and it was a lie. “That’s not my name,” she returned.

Hawkgirl muttered, “Figures.”

So they did their research. They found where she lived and what her false name was. Where they got their information, she had no idea. But, they made an effort in finding her. ~~~~

 “ _Join the Justice League? Become a superhero with a uniform and everything? Putting myself in harm’s way on a daily basis?_ ” she thought.

This was too good to be true. These strangers were offering her this vague thing. How could she know that she wasn’t being tricked? She couldn’t know. She couldn’t trust them. They were heroes, but what did that mean?

“What do I get out of it?” she asked. It sounded harsh to her ears but she needed to know.

The Martian seemed unoffended and said, “Room and board. Healthcare. Whatever you need.”

Oh. That was tempting.

“Better than being a waitress, huh?”

Hawkgirl was right, but Athalia didn’t say anything. How many days did she have to choose between rent and going to bed hungry? And the decision always went to rent.

She wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore. All of this, being held out her. She could take it.

“Will I be safe from people who would want to hurt me?” Athalia asked. What good was what they offered if she wasn’t safe? She was so tired. She didn’t realize how tired she was of constantly looking over her shoulder until then. What good was this opportunity if she wasn’t given that?

A beat of silence.

“We would protect you,” the Martian said.

Okay. It wasn’t an absolute ‘yes’. But being protected by the Justice League…what could be better than that? If the League could find her, those villains could find her as well. And they would likely kill her without second thought.

And there was the life debt to the man before her. It meant nothing on Earth and probably meant nothing on Mars as well. She wasn’t sure why she was latching onto that insignificant fact. It was the burden of tradition as the last free, if not living, member of her race. She could carry it. It was the least she could do.

Athalia took in a shaky breath and let it out. She lowered her hands and let them hang by her sides.

“Fine,” she croaked. Athalia blinked and cleared her throat, forcing her voice to sound loud and confident. “I accept your offer—um? What can I call you?”

The question got her the barest hint of a smile from the Martian. “J’onn J’onzz.”

Athalia smiled in return. “Nice to meet you, J’onn. In better circumstances than before.”

“What can we call you, since Rosa isn’t your real name?” Hawkgirl asked.

Athalia turned to face her. The urge to lie and give a false name crept up. It would be too easy to lie again. Lying was safer. But, she didn’t want to lie. With her real name still fresh on her tongue, she almost craved saying it again. She wanted to be honest. It was probably the only thing she could be honest about.

“My name is Athalia. Athalia Feivel.” She nodded in respect. “It’s an honor to meet you, Hawkgirl.”

Hawkgirl nodded back in approval, not offering another name.

Athalia glanced up to see Batman still stooped over the edge of the building. He barely moved, didn’t speak to her, not even to his colleagues.

Athalia was going to ask about it when Hawkgirl spoke up again, “We should go back to the Watchtower.” Her wings flexed, eager to take to the skies again.

“I agree,” J’onn said, walking up to stand by Athalia’s side.

He turned his attention to her. “Can you fly, Athalia?”

She shook her head. “Ah—no. No, I can’t. Believe me, I wouldn’t have been running from you if I could fly,” she replied, smiling more genuinely.

“May I be of assistance?” he asked.

Heat rose to her face. Of course she would need help. They weren’t expecting her to walk all the way to wherever their transportation was.

“Mind your hands,” she said, her voice finding a levity that she didn’t actually feel.

The Martian towered over her, both in height and body mass. Her race was already naturally delicate, so she felt especially small and breakable next to him. A giant, heavily muscled arm wrapped across her back, locking around her waist, bringing her side flush to his.

Athalia blushed even harder, breath hitched as her feet lifted off the ground. J’onn compensated for her weight as if it were nothing. There was no chance he would drop her, his grip practically unbreakable. But despite her confidence in him, she gripped onto his arm like a lifeline.

“ _Stars, stars, stars_!” Athalia chanted in her mind.

She could feel the humming again, but this was out of excitement, not fear or anger like it usually was. She wondered if J’onn could feel it and she hoped she wasn’t hurting him unintentionally.

Athalia had no experience with flying, so the sensation was exhilarating. The skyline zipped below them, wind whipping at her to the point she had to press a hand to her scarf so it would not fly off.

Barely a few minutes and a sleek, silver spaceship came into view, set on a clearing in the outskirts of the city.

They landed in front of it, J’onn setting her down gently, which she was grateful for, since she couldn’t help but feel a bit weak-kneed after all that.

“Thank you.”

Athalia noticed that Batman wasn’t with them. He didn’t follow them back to the ship. She opened her mouth to comment on it but Hawkgirl cut her off.

“This is Javelin-7. It takes us between Earth and our headquarters: the Watchtower. It’s also transport if we ever need to travel outside our solar system,” Hawkgirl explained.

Athalia nodded in understanding.

“It’s amazing. I’ve never seen anything like it,” Athalia said in awe.

The back door descended and they walked up into the ship.

Hawkgirl stared at her in mild confusion, as they sat down. J’onn took the controls at the front of the ship. “They didn’t have space travel where you’re from?”

Athalia blinked. “Oh, no, no, we did. We _do_ ,” she corrected. “It’s just…the spaceships I’ve seen were never this _pretty_.”

Hawkgirl laughed. “That’s a new one. No one’s ever called this ship ‘pretty’.”

“ _Stars, I need to keep my mouth shut._ ”

 “So, is that how you got to Earth?” Hawkgirl asked, “Using a spaceship?”

Athalia mentally backtracked, because, no, she didn’t. She knew the truth. Stars knew how many times she thought over the circumstances, far-reaching, that got her a way off the planet.

“Yes, by spaceship. Destroyed it after I reached Earth,” she lied, meeting Hawkgirl’s gaze steadily.

A complete lie. But Hawkgirl didn’t press. 

The engines roared to life and they lifted off the ground. Athalia turned her attention to the window, watching as the ground dropped away. ~~~~

The Metropolis skyline got smaller and smaller until it was indistinguishable. And they got farther and farther away until they left the atmosphere.

To see the Earth from space in person made Athalia feel so big and so small at the same time. She had known very little about what Earth looked like. But now she knew that it was mottled green and brown and blue and white. Beautiful.

“So this is what my home looks like,” she murmured.

Athalia watched in awe as the Watchtower loomed closer and closer. Athalia had seen pictures of structures like it before, but it was so much bigger in person, like a small city could be fit inside of it. It made the apartment complex in Metropolis look like a lowly shack in comparison.

She could imagine the architects from her home tripping over themselves to get the designs. Her fingers itched to draw it: a floating castle against the backdrop of space.

Committing the image to memory, she trained her gaze back inside the ship.

It was like a smaller, cleaner version of the buses she had seen in the city, with more creature comforts and attention to hygiene. She supposed it was mandatory if the occupants were going to be inside for hours, even days, while travelling across space.

Athalia forced her tense grip on her bag to relax. Her knuckles hurt from it.

“ _I’m not in trouble. I’ve been offered some sort of stability. No need to be nervous. They are heroes. They wouldn’t hurt me_ ,” she tried to reassure herself. There was that distrust clinging to the back of her mind.

While his eyes were to the controls of the ship, Athalia could feel J’onn’s attention on her.

It was the same with Hawkgirl, who appeared to amuse herself with her mace. She was observing, watching Athalia out of the corner of her eye.

Athalia could only hope that it wasn’t out of suspicion. They couldn’t have considered her to be an enemy or they wouldn’t have brought her to their base, right? Hopefully, they saw her as a stranger, wild card. They weren’t sure how she would fit in.

She didn’t know how she would fit in either.

Just looking at the three of them, it was clear how different they were. At least externally. They were all foreigners, not native to Earth, not sharing the same blood and genetic code of the ones that occupied the planet.

But J’onn J’onzz and Hawkgirl were willing to protect them. Athalia didn’t know why either of them would risk life and limb for the humans of Earth. Then again, she didn’t know her reason either.

At this point, it was a mostly selfish reason. They promised her food and shelter, in return she’d help people. She had nowhere else to go. Her face was likely plastered on every newspaper and television in the United States. And she made enemies. What else could she do?

She watched as the hangar doors opened and the ship was swallowed by high metal walls.

This was it.

Finally, the ship shuddered to a stop and the back door slid down. Nerves twitched through Athalia’s limbs, making unbuckling the straps across her chest more of a chore than it should have been.

“ _What if they don’t accept me? Is this all just a big mistake?_ ” she thought to herself.

She had no other place to go. This had to work. It had to.

“Come on. Everyone’s excited to meet you,” Hawkgirl insisted, nudging her forward. She didn’t sound particularly excited so Athalia wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic or not.

But sure enough, there was a small welcome party in the hanger. She recognized each person immediately: Superman, Wonder Woman and--

Her feet just touched the hangar floor and, with a rush of wind, a red and gold figure was in her face, grabbing her hand and shaking it with a force that was almost painful.

“Hey! I’m Flash, but I’m sure you already knew that. It’s great to meet you!” the speedster chirped.

Athalia blinked at his enthusiastic welcome, biting back the instinct to recoil from him. Everyone was watching her. She couldn’t look like a coward.

Her hand tightened around his. “Th—thanks.”

“Welcome to the Watchtower,” Wonder Woman greeted.

Athalia actually felt welcome and scared in equal measures. She smiled, in spite of it, trying to will her heart to slow.

“My name is Athalia Feivel. I’m honored to meet you all,” she said, inclining her head in respect. It was becoming easier and easier for her to say her own name. It was liberating to be truthful for once.

There was half a beat of silence before the man who protected the city she called home stepped forward.

Athalia smiled, having to tilt her head up to meet his eyes.

“Hello, Athalia. I’m Superman,” he introduced.

He reached out a hand to her, which she took. His hand engulfed hers.

She was aware of the fact that if he flexed just the wrong way, the little bones in her hand would be broken, snapped like dry twigs. She wondered if he thought something similar, if he was aware of his unparalleled physical strength.

If he was having similar thoughts, he didn’t show it. He just shook her hand and let go, beaming down at her. Obviously, the kindness he tended to show to the public was true in private. That knowledge was very comforting.

He stood aside and Wonder Woman took his place.

This time, Athalia stuck out her hand first, smiling shyly. Wonder Woman returned that smile with a bright one of her own as she took the smaller woman’s hand.

“Call me Diana.”

She radiated power, not unlike Flash. It was obvious that something ran through her veins that set her apart from everyone else on the planet. But there wasn’t haughtiness or pride associated with that power. She didn’t look down at Athalia like she was inferior, at least not obviously.

There was genuine friendliness in her eye.

“Diana,” Athalia repeated, trying to not sound too in awe.

Really, she was in awe of all the heroes surrounding her. So often she would hear people wishing they could be acknowledged by one of the League members. And here she was, welcomed by almost all of them.

She felt like a child amongst giants, the shortest and slightest person there.

“You’re nervous,” J’onn said.

Athalia shook her head and joked, “I’ve just become painfully aware of my stature, that’s all. You all are so much larger in real life.”

That got her a few smiles. Success.

“So you actually went through with it!”

Athalia suppressed the urge to shiver in surprise as a new voice almost echoed off the walls.

Green Lantern stormed into the room, brow in a harsh line.

“GL, check out the new girl!” Flash chirped, either ignorant of or ignoring his friend’s anger.

In return, Green Lantern ignored his teammate’s enthusiasm and pointed accusingly at Athalia, who couldn’t hold back a flinch.

“Now, I understand bringing her to the Watchtower for her own protection. But offering her a position, as a—a _trainee_ , is completely overstepping it!”

The pure contempt of his tirade sent Athalia mentally reeling. He was acting like a parent whose child had brought a dirty animal into the house. And who was the dirty animal in this case?

Shock turned to anger and Athalia bristled.

“ _How dare he treat me like I am less than him?_ ” she thought.

“She isn’t an official member, yet. We are going to test her, see if she is the right fit, like we had decided,” J’onn replied, clearly trying to placate the angry man.

Athalia’s gut twisted. So they weren’t in total agreement. And what was this about a test?

Finally, Athalia found her voice.

“What test?” she spoke up, trying to bury any bitterness that tried escape.

They turned to stare at her, as if they had forgotten that she could speak. Maybe they had forgotten that she was even there.

“I wasn’t told about a test,” Athalia continued.

It figured that it was too good to be true. What a fool she was for thinking otherwise.

Lantern looked down his nose at her and scoffed, “You thought it’d be that easy, that we’d just let you in?”

Athalia held herself rigidly, the urge to strike him twitching through her fingers. One flick of the wrist and she could give him something real to be angry about.

“We don’t need amateurs on this team,” he said, addressing the entire group.

He was obviously trying to get his fellow teammates to change their minds. Maybe even send her back to Earth. Nobody seemed to take the bait, but Athalia was seized with the worry that one might speak up and the others would follow.

She couldn’t go back. It was too late for her to go back. She had to stand up for herself, say something, anything.

Green Lantern, for all his strength, wouldn’t dare harm her because of anything she said. The rest of the League wouldn’t allow him. He was all talk. She had faced greater insults, more threatening men.

Athalia met his bright green eyes, forcing down the urge to shrink away from him.

“You’re right. I am an amateur.”

Inhale, exhale, a collection of thought.

Quickly, before he could cut her off, Athalia began to speak again.

She said, as calmly as possible, “I’m not a warrior or a soldier. But I do have power and I know that with training I can use it to do good things on Earth. Earth is my home now. I want to give back to it.”

She was stretching the truth, if she was being honest with herself. But anything to get him to stop yelling at her.

If Green Lantern looked surprised, it was quickly covered by renewed anger. He opened his mouth, surely to make a rebuttal, but he was intercepted by Hawkgirl who put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him to put a little space between him and Athalia.

“Lay off, Lantern. Quit making an ass of yourself,” she hissed.

He glared at Hawkgirl for a moment, turned on his heel, and stormed out.

Athalia exhaled shakily as he disappeared down the hallway.

Okay, she showed some backbone. And she wasn’t immediately kicked out because she mouthed off to one of the founding members. That was a good sign.

Superman cleared her throat, attempting to break the tense mood. “On that note, Flash, please escort Athalia to the medical bay. J’onn will join you momentarily.”

* * *

 

Flash was a ball of energy, excitable and enthusiastic. It was clear he wanted to race ahead as she followed his lead towards the medical bay, but he still kept in-step with her.

Athalia’s heart still raced from being confronted. She hadn’t expecting being yelled at. She hadn’t expected any of that, if she was being honest.

Flash lightly nudged her shoulder, grinning.

“Don’t get too down about GL. He’s a good guy, really, but he can be…prickly sometimes. Emphasis on prick.”

She smiled at his reassurance. Of course, Flash would know. He knew what each League member was like usually.

Athalia scoffed, “Prickly is an understatement. I don’t like hurting people, but I wanted to…to knock him down a couple pegs.”

She was being honest. She did want to hit him. Odds were it wouldn’t have ended well and they both knew it. But Flash laughed.

“That I would have loved to see.”

They walked on, Flash humming to himself.

“Flash?”

“Yeah?”

“Why didn’t Batman come to the Watchtower with Hawkgirl and J’onn? Isn’t he a part of the League?”

The question had been eating at her for a while. It didn’t make sense that he wasn’t there. She just didn’t think to actually bring it up until now.

Flash huffed and shook his head. “No one really knows why Bats does anything.”

That wasn’t the answer Athalia was expecting. “What do you mean?”

He paused for a brief moment. “He’s a part-time member,” Flash said, “He focuses on Gotham. When bad stuff happens there, which is always, by the way, he deals with it. League stuff takes a backseat.”

He waved dismissively. “You’ll meet him eventually. Probably when you least expect it.”

She stared. That didn’t sound particularly good.

“Meaning?”

“He likes to just appear. Poof. So, if someone sneaks up on you, it’s probably him.”

Athalia winced at the memory of lashing out at Batman in the alley, as he swooped down from above. “So don’t attack him on accident?”

Flash nodded. “Pretty much. But, he could handle just about anything any of us could throw at him.”

That much was obvious. From what little she saw, he was hardly scathed by her attack.

“Right,” she breathed.

So, she managed to surprise him once. Odds were that it wasn’t going to happen again. In fact, he was more likely to beat the life out of her before she could get in a hit.

Stars, how could she face him the next time she sees him? ‘Oh, sorry for attacking you?’

Flash stopped in front of a door and pressed a button in a panel.

“Here we are. My least favorite room in the Watchtower.”

The door slid to the side with a hiss.

Athalia hadn’t seen the inside of an Earthen hospital or doctor’s office before. With the sophistication of the equipment, the Justice League seemed to be ready for any illness or injury that may befall one of its members.

“Amazing,” she breathed.

She thought of someone who would have appreciated the medical equipment, probably would have known how each and every piece worked. But she kicked that name, those memories, into a far corner of her mind.

“With any luck, you won’t see much of it.”

Athalia turned her attention to the sound to see J’onn rising out of the ground, transparent, and solidifying.

“ _That’s different_ ,” she thought.

Flash saluted cheekily and sped away, leaving Athalia and J’onn alone. 

“So. What’s this test going to entail, J’onn?” she asked, crossing her arm, jaw stiff.

Athalia had been essentially lied to and she wasn’t happy about it. While she was good at lying, she didn’t like being on the receiving end. Especially in life-altering decisions like the one she had just made.

J’onn had the decency to look remorseful.

“You have my apologies for the deception.”

‘Deception’, indeed. What she had been told in the alley sounded like a certainty. But now it was not so certain. This fearful hope she held in her heart could be all for nothing. It could come crumbling down.

Athalia sniffed, “I wasn’t expecting to instantly become a League member, but it would’ve been nice to know what exactly I was getting myself into.”

“You have every right to that. We haven’t taken in any recruits before, so this is a work-in-progress.”

That much was obvious. Even Athalia knew that there had been seven members of the Justice League. That number hasn’t changed since the group was formed. And if Green Lantern’s reaction was any indication, not everyone was on board with the idea of _having_ a recruit.

Athalia clarified slowly, “So, I’m here for my protection? And to _maybe_ become a League member?”

“You have earned the ire of Sinestro and Tsukuri. They may try to hunt you down in revenge. Other…unsavory characters may try to take advantage of your position, maybe try to recruit you to their side, use you a weapon.”

“Like the League is?”

“You’re not a weapon or a tool to us.”

He was quick to assure her. Athalia looked away, rubbing her arms. She wanted to trust him, trust them.

“I’m a nobody,” she mumbled, “I’m better to them dead.”

“Perhaps.”

She looked back to him in shock.

“People like them usually have little vision of the future,” he continued. “They don’t recognize potential.”

There was that piercing gaze again, like he was staring right into her. Athalia couldn’t meet his eyes. Maybe he was trying to figure out if her ‘potential’ was worth the trouble.

She cleared her throat. “That is if I can pass the tests. What are they?”

It was time for business. She just wanted to get this over with. She wanted to know whether or not this was going to work. J’onn nodded, reaching for a tablet.

“First I will ask you some questions about who you are. Then you will have a health evaluation. Finally, a test of your abilities in a combat position.”

Athalia swallowed nervously. Questions? About her and her life? Facts, names, places, that she never spoke of.

“Is that acceptable to you?” he pressed.

Athalia started slightly, realizing that she hadn’t responded.

She said with a confidence she didn’t feel, “Yes, I think I can manage that.”

“Then, let’s begin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the next chapter is in the bag. Phew, that was a long one. Thank you so much for reading!  
> Any and all feedback is appreciated!  
> Big thanks to Purveyor of Words for being an awesome beta and great friend!  
> Cheers!  
> ~Tiara of Sapphires


	4. Trials

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT. Long chapter in repayment for missing my update time last Saturday. (In my defense, it was my birthday so I took...the...week...off...oops) Hopefully you all can forgive me for it.  
> A big thank you to all who gave me feedback and such!  
> Enjoy!  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize blah blah blah don’t sue me DC I’m not worth it.

Athalia sat on one of the beds, her bag at her feet, and J’onn sat on a chair, facing her. He had a tablet in his hands, clearly ready to take note of her answers. Athalia rubbed her hands together nervously. It wasn’t fight-or-flight humming through her skin. It was nerves. Anticipation. She didn’t know what to expect.

“What is your full name?” he asked.

Athalia almost laughed at the simplicity of it. First things first.

“Athalia Feivel, daughter of Yana. That’s my formal title.”

Given name, father’s name, daughter or son of mother’s name. It was how it worked. It was a mouthful, but it was custom.

Athalia missed her parents. Thinking about them felt like a piece of ice was lodged into her chest. But she cast the thought aside. She could prod at it later.

His fingers tapped on the pad.

“How old are you?”

Another innocent enough question. Athalia hadn’t thought about her age in a while, even lost track of the number while on Earth. Even more by then. She remembered how old she was between major events. But when she was in the dark, time didn’t make any sense anymore. Now, she didn’t know. She really didn’t.

She was born 26 days after the summer solstice on her world. But that didn’t tell her how old she was exactly.

“I am 31, I think,” Athalia said slowly. “I don’t know the exact number.”

She was young, in the scope of how long she could live. Members of her race could live for hundreds of years. She highly doubted that she would reach that kind of age. Reaching past 30 was an accomplishment. One year at a time.

J’onn nodded.

“I wasn’t expecting an exact date. But, where are you from, if I may ask?”

Athalia remembered how she didn’t answer Hawkgirl when she asked a similar question, how defensiveness had leaked into her voice. He must have thought she wouldn’t answer him now. She really didn’t want to answer, if she was being honest with herself. But there was no way they were going to let her get away with only saying that she was an alien, her race and planet of origin unknown to them.

“M--,” Athalia started, the word cutting off.

She flinched, her throat working around the word. Her home. It was once so beautiful. She didn’t know what it looked like now.

Athalia forced nonchalance into her demeanor. It felt very fake, even to her.

“Mnemosia. It is about sixty light-years from Earth. Something like that.”

J’onn’s face twitched, as if he was raising an eyebrow.

“I know of that planet.”

She nodded, not surprised. The people of Mnemosia and Mars were in contact with each other for centuries, until the Martian race was wiped out. But that happened centuries before Athalia was born. She was very surprised to find that there indeed was a Martian still alive when she came to Earth.

“There are two races, aren’t there? One with increased mental strength and one with increased physical strength.”

It was both reassuring and not that J’onn seemed to know about her world. He knew about the two races: the beings of fire, Itirohids, and the beings of stone, Avlohids. Both of them were good, in their own ways. At least, Athalia used to believe that.

“Right. And I belong to the first one. The Itirohids.”

Athalia had hoped that these kinds of questions would stop, but he didn’t show any sign of stopping.

“Why did you leave?” J’onn asked. “Surely you had a reason.”

The importance of that question was lost to Athalia.

Why she left her home. How she left. She knew the answers to that. They were carved into her skin, burned like brands against her mind. A series of events over several years that ended with her alone and miles north of Metropolis.

“Things were getting rough,” Athalia said, shrugging, “Civil war was about to break out. So I called in a few favors and left as soon as I could.”

It wasn’t a lie, technically. Half-truths, a mix of fact and fiction.

J’onn stared at her for a moment, red-orange eyes seeming to bore a hole through her. Athalia was sure he was going to press. She wasn’t sure how she would be able to answer if he did.

J’onn didn’t inquire further. In fact, he seemed almost sorrowful.

The questioning continued on a different vein, to her immense relief. Her occupations (artist, waitress), non-existent (technically) criminal record, how long she had been on Earth (less than three years). Eventually, J’onn stood, setting the tablet on a nearby counter, signaling that the questioning was over.

Athalia was relieved to hear it.

J’onn hadn’t kicked her off of the Watchtower, so she had to assume she passed that test. All that seemed to serve was for them to get a file on who she was and for Athalia to realize that her lying abilities hadn’t waned through the years in the slightest.

Athalia drummed her fingers on her arm as she waited for something else to happen. J’onn was fiddling with something.

She was startled when he spoke up again, almost forgetting that he was in the room with her.

“I will also carry out the health evaluation, but we can have Diana here if it will make you more comfortable.”

Athalia nodded. That seemed logical.

“I would like her to be here,” she agreed.

While Athalia was practically certain J’onn wasn’t going to take advantage of her, she felt better with the idea of another woman being in the room. She didn’t know what her health evaluation would be like.

J’onn’s eyes glowed suddenly. It took a moment for Athalia to remember that he was telepathically summoning her.

Athalia envied him a bit, being able to use his telepathic powers to connect with others. She couldn’t link with him, or with anyone else, despite her mind’s constant yearning for it. She had the buzzing and she was suddenly very conscious of it.

Diana entered a minute later, greeting the two of them.

“Shall we get this started?” Diana asked.

J’onn asked her questions (more questions!) on her medical history. Some of the ailments he asked about she recognized, but some she didn’t. She just answered ‘no’ to them and hoped for the best.

They weighed her and measured her height: five feet, four inches, and underweight.

Admittedly, Athalia wasn’t in peak physical condition. She didn’t need the tests to tell her that. While she was often on her feet, she had a poor diet, on the cusp of going hungry. Thin, but not quite bony, not quite gaunt. She knew what gaunt looked like on her.

Her kind were generally healthy. Their bodies were weaker to injury, more easily broken, less easily fixed. The other race was more robust, possessing physical strength.

They took a vial of blood for tests. She wasn’t sure what they were testing for, but she let J’onn poke her with a needle. J’onn was gentle taking her blood, taping a cotton ball to in the inside of her elbow to stop the bleeding.

They checked for anything that would hinder her ability in battle: her heart, lungs, sight, and hearing.

All of those must have been passible because no one spoke up to tell her otherwise.

“That wasn’t too bad, was it?” Diana said jovially when it was all over.

That was one way to put it. In response, Athalia yawned, the force of it shaking her a little.

“Sorry, that was rude of me,” she apologized.

Diana patted her shoulder empathetically. “You’ve had a rough day. I wouldn’t blame you for being tired.”

J’onn added, “The physical portion of your evaluation will wait until tomorrow.”

Athalia smiled at both of them in gratitude.

“Thank you. I would probably fall asleep halfway through it. Wouldn’t be very dignified,” she sighed.

A beat of silence followed.

“J’onn will show you to your room,” Diana said. Her voice offered no room for argument as she glanced smugly at the Martian.

Athalia didn’t care who would show her where she was going to sleep. As long as she got to sleep on a mattress somewhere private.

Bidding Diana farewell, Athalia dutifully followed J’onn out.

She had to pick up her pace, since his stride was twice as long as hers even when he seemed to deliberately slow down so she could keep up.

They moved in silence, neither of them striking a conversation.

An elevator ride down to the 32nd floor and finally, he stopped in front of a door.

“Your room.”

He pressed a button near the doorframe and the door opened. She stepped in, looking around.

The room was nicer than anything she had seen in a long time. There was a bed covered in white linen, adjacent to it a little table with a lamp. An armoire sat in the left corner. A desk with chair was pushed against the right wall. There was a door to the left, which she assumed led to the bathroom. Everything was either white or metallic silver or grey.

It looked spotless, un-lived in.

She walked further into the room while J’onn stayed in the doorway.

Something caught her eye: a large window, looking out to the stars.

“That’s some view,” she breathed.

It should have concerned her that there was only a wall of metal and glass between her and the vacuum of space, but it didn’t. After years of living in the city where starlight was rare, now the stars were right there.

“Indeed. A benefit of living in a space station,” J’onn paused for a moment and said, “I will leave you here. Get some rest.”

Athalia turned around, just as he was beginning to leave.

“Wait, J’onn?” she called out.

He stopped, looking back at her.

“Yes?”

Athalia shifted where she stood, her nerve disappearing as quickly as it came.

“I never really thanked you,” she said.

He tilted his head. “For what?”

Athalia wasn’t sure if he was playing dumb or if he honestly didn’t know that he had done something worth her gratitude.

It didn’t really matter, so she continued, “For saving my life. And—and for offering this opportunity to me. It’s ah—I’m just really thankful.”

She stopped the words ‘I owe you’ from escaping. She did owe him. She owed him her life and she was bound by honor to her world to pay him back. But she didn’t want to say it out loud. How could she?

“You’re welcome,” he said, smiling ever so slightly.

Athalia returned that smile and nodded.

“Good night, J’onn.”

He left without another word, the door hissing closed behind him.

Exhaling, Athalia set her bag on the bed. For a moment, she wondered why her stuff wasn’t searched, but then she realized. Superman had X-ray vision, didn’t he?

Not like she could’ve planned that far ahead. ~~~~

She toed off her shoes, wincing when her bare feet touched the cold floor. But it was better than dirty and ragged carpet.

“Stars,” she breathed.

For the umpteenth time that day, all of the energy seemed to drain out of her. She sat down on the mattress and leaned on her arms.

Hopefully it was the end of the excitement of the day.

The day before had been a normal day. Work, sleep, repeat. But today, she fought off supervillains and was recruited into a group of superheroes. Nothing like she had ever done before.

Her mind wandered to her new colleagues. With the exception of Green Lantern and Batman, who was absent for her introduction to the League, they were all…kind to her. At least cordial.

They treated her like a new friend, like an equal. Not like someone to be feared, not like a strange novelty or a new pet.

If it was all an act, it wasn’t obvious to her yet. She hoped she wasn’t being played for a fool.

She ran a hand over the bedspread. The fabric was high quality, expensive. None of it was obviously luxurious, but it was comfortable and…nice.

Yet another thing she would have to get used to.

While she had lived in her apartment in Metropolis for two, almost three, years, Athalia never allowed herself to make it a home. She was going through the motions: sleep, eat, work, repeat. She didn’t have the urge to decorate or accumulate any frivolous possessions.

She didn’t need to hide here. Not entirely, anyway. Her identity, her abilities; those could be shown off as much as she wanted. Her history would remain secret, carefully guarded.

If this was to be her room, a permanent home, that meant she could make it her own. It was her chance to do something for herself. She could imagine it.

Candles. One of the things she missed from home was the abundance of candles. The little flames. The light they gave off. The smell of smoke when they were blown out. They were reminders of the good times and celebrations. She could put a few on the desk.

Add a decorative rug and some soft blankets. Hang up a few of her better drawings.

Athalia knew she was getting ahead of herself. She wasn’t a permanent member, not even a permanent ‘trainee’. At this point, she was a visitor, a guest. And that meant that she was temporary.

But she was used to being in uncertain positions. It was just how her life was becoming the past few years.

Exhaling, her hands went up to unpin and unravel her scarf. Her hands froze mid-motion, her heart clenching in her chest as a thought appeared in her mind.

“ _They wouldn’t spy on me while I’m undressing, right?_ ”

While they didn’t fully trust her yet, they wouldn’t violate her privacy like that. They seemed to value letting their fellow members have their secrets.

At least, she really hoped that was the case.

Paranoia had her gathering a set of pajamas and her toiletries, shuffling to the bathroom. It felt safer.

The bathroom, like the main room, was pristine. And also much larger than her old bathroom. Sink, toilet, bathtub and shower, mirror. Top of the line.

Athalia brushed her teeth and changed into pajamas, both of which felt very normal in this abnormal setting.

She felt very vulnerable walking from the bathroom to her bed. Bare-footed, wearing a set of ratty pajamas. She almost expected someone to burst into the room.

The mattress was silent as she pulled back the covers and sat down, not even the ghost of a creak from the bedframe. It was the twice the width of the mattress in her old apartment, maybe a little longer. And ridiculously comfortable. She didn’t know mattresses could be that comfortable.

The entire room was clean, practically sterile.

There wasn’t the smell of flowers and freshly-baked bread. Not the smell of sweat and illness. Not even the smell of mold and smoke.

It smelled like cleaning supplies, faintly sharp.

She clicked off the light. It wasn’t totally dark: pale, barely-there light spilling from the window into the room. It was then she took off her headscarf, balling it up and setting it on the bedside table.

Sinking further into the sheets, Athalia stared at the ceiling. The ceiling stared back.

It was so quiet. Who would have thought that she would miss her upstairs neighbors making noise above her head at night?

Huffing, she turned to her side, back facing the window.

There was no way she was going to sleep. It was too quiet, this was an unfamiliar place, she had much to think on. She wasn’t going to fall—

* * *

She sat up with a choked gasp, a dream still echoing in her ears. She could almost see the yellow light a hairsbreadth from her face. She had failed. She watched people die and she couldn’t do anything about it. And Sinestro had turned on her and she couldn’t defend herself. She was helpless and numb, the power that normally ran under her skin gone. She had awoken just before he could cut her down.

The humming was back and the fear remained, finding a different reason.

This wasn’t her room. This wasn’t her bed. It was warm and dark and quiet—way, way too quiet—and she didn’t know where she was.

Then she remembered: the fight, the recruitment.

She wasn’t in Metropolis anymore. She was in a space station. No noisy neighbors, no bustling street, no freezing apartment. Just six superpowered beings and the silence of space.

She flicked on the lamp and light flooded the room. Her room. Her clean and quiet room. It was almost unsettling how quiet it was.

“Good morning to me,” she murmured, pushing the covers back. She didn’t even know what time it was. She just assumed it was morning.

Her muscles protested when she swung her legs to hang off the edge of the bed, the frantic run across town the day before coming back to haunt her. Athalia swore under her breath. If the very act of sitting up was causing her discomfort, she was in trouble.

Taking in a few deep breaths, Athalia rolled her shoulders, feeling muscles shift and pop. She pressed her hands against her lower back, arching. She rubbed her legs carefully, massaging the stiffness from her thighs and calves and arches.

She was in so much trouble. She didn’t know what to expect. If whatever the League had planned for her included a footrace or a fistfight, she was doomed.

It took her an embarrassingly long time for her to look and feel like a functional person. She chose pants and a loosely fit shirt to wear and took extra care to tightly pin her headscarf in anticipation for…whatever the Justice League planned for her.

Her stomach gurgled softly, the emptiness making itself known.

“That’s right. I haven’t eaten in a while,” she muttered as she walked out the door.

She stopped as soon as the door closed behind her. No going back now. She was greeted by an empty hallway. If she went left, she would reach the elevator. If she went right, she would go…somewhere else?

How was she supposed to find anything? All she knew was where the hangar and the medical bay were and, even then, she didn’t know on what floor either of those things were.

She started left, grumbling to herself.

“First day and I’m going to be wandering around looking for the kitchen like a complete idiot.”

A few more steps down the hall towards the elevator. Maybe she could find another League member and ask them where she was supposed to go.

But a prickling on her neck made her freeze. Despite the voice that told her that there couldn’t possibly be any danger, a trill of fear passed through her, twitching in her fingers.

She couldn’t hear anyone approaching, then who—?

Athalia turned on her heel to see Batman standing, staring, several feet away from her on the other end of the hallway. He was so quiet that she wasn’t able to hear him enter.

Neither of them moved for several seconds, sizing each other up. Taking the initiative, Athalia stepped closer to him. Close enough for him to get the message that she wasn’t afraid of him. Intimidated, sure. But not afraid.

“Batman,” she started, “I’m—.”

“I know who you are,” he cut her off.

Athalia blinked, startled by his brusqueness.

Athalia shifted from one foot to the other, unsure. She was able to find words when she was yelled at by Green Lantern, but now she couldn’t think of anything intelligent to say. He was unreadable, stare piercing.

Finally rousing her courage, she spoke up, “I—I’m sorry for attacking you yesterday.”

 “ _Stars, what kind of apology was that?_ ”

“Blasting me through a window?” he growled.

Of course he wouldn’t take it well. But she did feel almost justified in what she had done.

Athalia returned, “You swooped down like an evil spirit. How was I supposed to know that you weren’t going to hurt me?”

He said nothing, his expression unchanging. She wasn’t sure if this was how a conversation with the Batman usually went, but hey, he wasn’t yelling at her. So it was a small victory.

Athalia opened her mouth to make a more coherent apology, but her stomach decided to make an embarrassingly audible sound. She blushed while Batman made no reaction.

“I—uh—don’t know where I’m supposed to go to eat. Didn’t get a full tour of the Watchtower,” she explained sheepishly.

“36th floor on the left side,” came the short instructions.

“Thank you,” she nodded and turned away toward the elevator.

He was still behind her. She could feel his eyes on her back. The feeling suddenly stopped and she turned around. The hallway was empty and silent once again.

Athalia sighed and shook her head.

“That’s going to get real old, real quick,” she breathed.

* * *

Athalia followed Batman’s instructions. It turned out that the kitchen was 4 floors below her room.

She was alone for maybe five seconds before a red blur streaked into the room.

“Hey, Athalia! Finally, you’re awake!” came the greeting.

Athalia tilted her head in confusion.

“Hello, Flash. What do you mean, ‘finally’?” she asked slowly.

Flash looked contemplative for a moment, tapping a finger against his chin.

“Well, you did sleep for ten hours.”

Athalia started, eyes widening.

“What? Ten _hours_?”

She was used to getting at maximum six hours of sleep a night. How messed up was her sense of time that she was able to sleep ten hours straight?

Her panic must have been apparent since Flash waved his hand, dismissive. “No big deal, you didn’t miss much.”

That wasn’t very reassuring.

“What _did_ I miss?” Athalia asked.

“A few robberies and a forest fire. No big deal.”

The offhandedness of the comment took her aback. That was ‘no big deal?’ Were they so confident in their abilities?

“Was anyone injured?” she asked.

“Nah, everyone’s fine. It takes more than a little fire or some small-time criminals to take out a Justice League member.” He puffed out his chest, obviously proud about that fact.

Right. Of course.

“You hungry?”

Athalia blinked at the sudden change in subject. “I am. Haven’t had a proper meal in a while.”

“What’re you having?”

She shrugged.

“Probably some tea and oatmeal, like I always do.”

Flash looked at her like she just personally insulted him.

“Aw, come on! That’s not a breakfast, not for a superhero!” Flash whined.

Athalia lifted an eyebrow. “What does a superhero have for breakfast?” she asked, humoring him.

“Something with substance! Protein! Some caffeine! Like an iced mocha!” he said, gesturing at the coffeemaker.

“ _Oh boy_.”

“Is there tea?” Athalia asked, “I prefer that over coffee.”

It was Flash’s turn to look startled, as if the thought of someone not liking coffee had been unthinkable until that moment.

“There should be. Somewhere.”

He rummaged through the cupboards at superspeed, coming back with a small box.

“See! Uh…black tea. That’s good, right?”

Athalia took it from him with a smile. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

Flash clapped his hands, an idea forming in his eyes.

“What do you want to eat? You know what? I’ll surprise you,” he said, his words running together.

He was hunched over the stove before Athalia could open her mouth to protest.

“Flash, you don’t have to—”

Flash cut her off, “Nah, nah, you sit down and make yourself comfortable.”

 “At least let me boil some water for my tea,” Athalia insisted.

“I got it!”

Another second later and a pot was on the stove.

“O-okay,” Athalia breathed.

Since it was clear Flash wasn’t going to let her do _anything_ , Athalia sat down, accepting her fate. He was going to make her first meal on the Watchtower and there was nothing she could do about it.

Of course, this was going to be a one-time thing. She wasn’t an invalid and her cooking abilities, well, she liked to think they were okay. She lived 3 years alone and not once did she accidentally poison herself.

But watching someone cook for her…

It brought a pang of longing, memories, useless nostalgia she had tried to stifle for several years. But Flash was kind for doing this for her.

Despite his superspeed, it took him a few minutes to finish what he was doing.

Flash set a plate in front of her with flourish. There were green and grey lumps in the eggs, along with something that looked like melted cheese.

At least it smelled good.

“Some famous Flash eggs, complete with onions, cheese, and mushrooms,” Flash declared.

She smiled gratefully, seeing the nervously hopeful expression on Flash’s face. Just a kid.

“Thank you, Flash. I’m sure it’ll taste delicious.”

After the water boiled, Athalia intercepted Flash’s attempt to make her tea.

“Ah, ah. I am making my own tea,” she said.

If there was one thing she never let anyone do, it was to make her tea for her. Not back on Mnemosia, not on Earth. It was a familiar ritual: teabag in the mug, pour in the water, wait for the tea to steep.

Flash watched as she poured three spoonsful of sugar into the brewed mug.

He exhaled in a laugh, “You really like your tea sweet.”

She shrugged after she sat back down at the table.

“I’m sure your iced mocha has that much sugar and more.”

He gestured at her with his fork. “Point.”

Letting the tea cool, she started on the eggs.

Flash nudged her, clearly looking for some sort of sign that he did something good. “Better than just oatmeal and tea, right?”

Athalia nodded. They were actually really good.

“Yes. Thank you, Flash.”

He was already halfway through his serving, which was originally three-times the size of her own. She guessed it had something to do with his abilities. He was like a small animal, expending energy quickly and needing constant replenishment.

Flash spoke up around a mouthful, “You like Earth’s food?”

Athalia laughed, scooping up a bit of egg. He really was a kid, if not a kid at heart.

“From what I’ve had, yeah.”

“You mean you haven’t tried a lot of stuff?” Flash asked, “Chinese? Thai? Mexican? Italian? Ethiopian?”

She recognized what he was listing. Kinds of food

“I’ve heard of some of those. Only had Chinese.”

Once again, Flash looked almost offended. “You’re kidding! What kind of life you were living?”

Shame crept up. Her eyes fell to her plate.

“I’ve struggled with money since I came to Earth. Rent came first, food second.”

There wasn’t a lot of work for someone who could barely read in English. She never liked reading to begin with, even in her native language. But she learned a little, enough to get by.

“So all you ate was oatmeal and tea?” Flash asked, interrupting her reverie.

“For breakfast, yes. It was what I could afford. Besides, it’s simple and quick.”

“What about other meals?”

Athalia shrugged. “Sometimes I was allowed to bring home leftovers, when I worked at the diner. When I didn’t, usually I managed to scrape together enough food. But sometimes I couldn’t.”

That was just on Earth. The last few years she spent on Mnemosia were a thousand times worse. Days without food.

Flash looked horrified. “So, you went hungry.”

“I went hungry,” she echoed.

Flash shook his head. “That sucks.”

Athalia didn’t respond to that and let a heavy silence settle. She didn’t want to think about the times she would be faint with hunger. She didn’t want to think about what the League had in store for her later.

She just wanted to eat and hope it stayed down for the rest of the day.

“But, you don’t have to worry about that now! We have all the food you could possibly want!”

“Provided I can pass the test. I’ll get kicked out if I don’t,” Athalia grumbled, stabbing a piece of egg with her fork.

She could bend the metal if she wanted to. She really wanted to. The fear and anticipation was making her hands feel shaky.

“Don’t worry. You’ll do fine,” Flash said.

Athalia shook her head, taking a sip from her tea. She wanted to believe him. But she was likely completely out of her depth. She got lucky once. She couldn’t get lucky again. It just wasn’t possible.

“All heroes start somewhere. You think I was doing all this epic stuff when I first got my powers?” he insisted, nudging her shin with his foot. “Nah, I screwed up a lot. I still screw up sometimes.”

He leaned forward, grinning conspiratorially.

“And, between you and me, there’s way too much muscle on this team. You’ll be fine.”

* * *

An hour later and Flash led her to a large room with a very high ceiling and padded floors. All of the other League members—even Batman—were there, waiting for the two of them.

“ _No pressure_ ,” Athalia thought.

Superman walked up to her, smiling as if to reassure her. It was a bit reassuring, but not a lot.

“What am I supposed to do?” she asked.

“This will be a bit of a team exercise. Wonder Woman will be your partner. And you both will face Flash and Green Lantern in a—eh—sparring match,” Superman said.

Athalia blinked, looking over to the Amazon. Diana nodded and smiled at her. They were going to fight together? A mock-fight, sure, but still a fight.

Superman lightly clapped her shoulder and said, “I will referee the match. If you want to stop, just say the word. Good luck.”

Athalia nodded, unable to say anything intelligent.

“Thank you. I’ll do my best,” she said.

Athalia walked over to her teammate. Diana radiated confidence, something that Athalia sorely needed at that moment.

“Diana,” she greeted with a shaky smile.

Athalia thought about saying something, maybe telling Diana that she was probably going to do awfully in this battle. That Diana shouldn’t have high expectations.

“You take on Flash, I’ll take Lantern,” Diana murmured, before Athalia could get a word in.

Okay, Diana was calling the shots. That was good for Athalia. She didn’t want to be the one making the decisions. She had two goals, straightforward. One, fight against Flash. And two, make sure she doesn’t end up on her back, seeing stars, within the first 30 seconds of the fight. The second one seemed to be the most important.

It was time. Her body knew it as well as her mind, a nervous tension running under her skin.

She imagined she needed to do more of the same as yesterday. Deflect, dodge, attack.

And a lot of luck.

* * *

Diana and Athalia stood on one side of the room, Flash and Green Lantern on the other, several feet separating the two teams. Superman stood in the middle, Hawkgirl, J’onn, and Batman on the sides, prime viewing for whatever was going to happen.

Most of the attention was on Athalia. She could feel eyes on her. It made sense, since she was the reason this was happening in the first place. This was her time to prove her worth, that she could be a worthwhile addition to the team.

If she messed up, it would be all over.

Green Lantern glared at her like she was something he scraped off the bottom of his shoe. She thought of making an equally disgusted face, but decided that antagonizing him wouldn’t help. That was Diana’s job.

She looked to Flash, who grinned at her from where he stood.

“Not gonna go easy on you, A.”

Her lips quirked up at the nickname, covering her nervousness.

“I’m not expecting you to.”

Her strategy: keep him as far physically from her as possible. Her mind just needed to be as fast as his feet. Maybe a little faster. Which was easier said than done.

“Ready?” Superman asked.

The air in the room immediately tensed, buzzing with anticipation. Or maybe Athalia was just feeling the buzzing under her skin. Her body was raring to fight and shed off this energy.

“Begin!” Superman shouted, immediately moving out of the way.

Diana was off almost instantly, engaging Green Lantern with a ferocity that Athalia hoped would never ever be directed at her.

Flash rushed her, hitting her at an angle, spinning her around.

She blinked, turning back to be greeted by Flash running at her again. Athalia lobbed psychic energy at him, which he sidestepped. He hit her again, this time, he knocking her feet out from under her.

She hit the ground, but immediately got back up.

Athalia didn’t want to hit Flash, but if she didn’t, she would fail. She needed to show that she was ready for combat. She had to hit him.

Provided that she could actually land a hit. He was so fast, never staying in one spot.

She went on the offensive, stretching out her right hand out. Of course, he sidestepped.

Athalia exhaled through her nose and struck out again, several bursts in quick succession.

He sidestepped them all.

“Damn it,” she breathed.

It was frustrating. He told her she wasn’t going to fail, but she was going to fail anyway because she couldn’t hit him even if she wanted to.

She would exhaust herself before she could get a hit. She wasn’t paying any attention to Diana and Green Lantern. Diana seemed to be doing a good job at keeping the man distracted. From the corner of her eye, she could see them fighting, but she kept her attention to Flash. Blink twice and he could be behind her and shoving her to the ground.

He wasn’t doing that, but still.

“Gotta be faster, A!” he yelled teasingly.

“You need to stay still,” she huffed.

She waved her hand in an arc, hoping that he wouldn’t be able to dodge. But he did.

“ _By the stars, this is impossible. How am I supposed to—oh_.”

Right. He was following the motion of her hands.

Flash ran at her again, spinning her around.

“Stars! Quit it!” she hissed.

She attacked again: a short blast from her left, followed by her right.

He dodged both of them.

She struck out her right hand again, her wrist twisting. The energy released as an arc, like before. But this time it wasn’t obvious to Flash.

He moved to the side, but not far enough, not realizing that the blast was wider. It connected with his body, the force of the psychic blast knocking Flash away and on his back.

“Hey!” he yelped.

He scrambled to his feet again, but she struck again before he could get his footing, flipping him onto his stomach.

Now, she stretched out, wrapping the invisible force around his legs, like it was an extension of her arm and hand. And then flexed, lifting him into the air, letting him dangle upside-down with his head several feet above the ground.

“Whoa! What are you doing?” Flash shouted, flailing.

Feeling a bit mischievous, she lightly swung him around like he was a ragdoll. Flash twisted his body, trying to break her hold. Athalia could feel him straining against his bonds. She figured he could break out if he really tried, but he wasn’t really trying.

“Come on! That isn’t fair!”

She imagined if this was a real fight, she would have to whack him against something a few times to make sure that he would be subdued for capture. Not let him go.

Flash pled, “Come on, let me down. Please?”

Before she could make a move one way or another, something bright appeared in the corner of her eye.

Athalia turned and deflected a green beam that was heading directly for her head. The force behind it made her stagger back a step.

Green Lantern had managed to force back Diana and turned his full attention to her. Her focus on Flash wavered, now divided between him and the new threat that was Green Lantern.

She let Flash to drop to the ground, forgetting to be gentle about it. She was too busy sending a psychic blast at the flying man. It collided with Lantern’s hand, forcing it up. The green beam that was forming around his ring was sent into the ceiling, creating a charred dent in the metal.

Athalia struck out again. He feinted to the side, landing lightly on the ground.

Green Lantern held out the ring on his fist, a huge beam of green spewing out.

Athalia held out her hands, forming a protective shield.

The shock of the impact crept from her fingertips Her shield held as the two energies connected, his attack deflecting like a stream of water hitting a wall.

Athalia strengthened her stance, made sure she was taking measured breaths. Her body was shaking almost imperceptibly from the power surging through, making her skin break out in a thin sweat. She felt the pressure of the onslaught, but she wasn’t in danger of blacking out or worse.

Facing Green Lantern, the sensation of the ring’s energy felt very familiar. It was like Sinestro’s attacks, only more concentrated, more powerful. But the two forces were matched, one flowing over the other.

They were at a standstill, neither one willing to back down. At this point, it wasn’t a question of will. Neither of them would back down if they could help it. This was a question of who was the stronger of the two, who would break first.

The air crackled with energy.

Suddenly, Athalia’s vision blacked-out, fireworks bursting behind her eyelids. It was only for a fraction of a second, pressure peaking and releasing, all sound turning into an intense ringing. The barrier wavered, collapsing against the strength of the ring.

Instinct had her form a barrier—a flimsy one—so the beam didn’t impact directly on her. It didn’t burn, but it hit her like a truck, carrying her off her feet and sending her flying back several feet.

Athalia slammed hard on her side, breath leaving her in a pained wheeze. At least she was pretty sure it was a wheeze. She couldn’t hear over the sound of her ringing ears.

She should have stayed down, or at least told Superman that she couldn’t take anymore. But she rolled onto her knees and struggled to stand, trying to ignore the black stars flashing in her vision.

“ _I have to stand. I have to get up_ ,” she thought desperately.

Green light wrapped around her wrists, pinning them to the ground, halting her movements. Her chest tightened in panic.

“ _No. I won’t give up. I won’t surrender. Not again_ ,” she thought, determination burning through her body.

Maybe Green Lantern thought that he won. But her power was not restricted by her ability to move her hands. She knew that. Moving her hands helped her concentrate, but she didn’t need it now.

 There was still energy running through her body, a last-ditch effort.

Thinking quickly, she whipped her head up, putting as much force behind the burst of energy as she possibly could. It hit the top part of his body with a loud noise, sending him stumbling and falling on his backside.

Her shackles disappeared as Green Lantern reeled from the hit and lost his concentration. Athalia staggered to her feet, lightheaded. There was the strung-out feeling again, but it was tempered by a feeling of satisfaction. She landed a hit.

The feeling of satisfaction lasted for a brief moment. Lantern stood up again, recovering, looking absolutely murderous.

Athalia clenched her jaw, unsure if she could handle another extended hit. Fatigue weighed on her body. She would try. Of course she would try.

Several things happened at once.

Green Lantern stepped forward. Athalia mirrored his movement, teeth clenching, ready to meet him.

“That’s enough!” a voice shouted out. Even Athalia could hear Superman’s shout.

Diana grabbed Lantern’s ring arm, pulling it back and away.

Someone pinned back Athalia’s arms, yanking her around so she wasn’t facing her opponent.

A choked gasp escaped her lips.

_They held her arms behind her back, forcing her to her knees._

_Athalia cried. She cried, and plead and begged. Begged for mercy._

_Not for herself. But for the shrieking figure in her periphery._

_‘Don’t hurt her. Do what you want to me, for the love of our gods, don’t hurt her.’_

_The near-silent hiss of metal slicing through the air and pain burst down her face._

She wrenched herself from the grip, almost whacking the person—Flash—in the process.

“I got it,” she muttered between sticky, copper-tasting lips.

She dabbed her hand over her mouth and inspected it. Sure enough, there was blood dripping from her nose, over her lips and chin.

Before she could ask, a damp rag was pressed into her hand and she immediately placed it against her nose, soaking up the blood.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

 Flash patted her shoulder. “No problem. You okay?”

She probably looked like a mess. She was dizzy and sore.

“I’m fine. My head hurts a bit, but I’ll survive.”

Fine was a relative term. She was still standing. She was still breathing. She would survive.  Her hands were shaking from adrenaline and fatigue and her head hurt and she could feel bruises forming where she hit the ground, but she would survive.

 Athalia could hear Hawkgirl berating Green Lantern in the next room, calling him a pigheaded idiot. She couldn’t hear him defending himself.

Athalia felt a grudge settle heavily in her chest. He went too far. While the point of the exercise was to show her ability in battle, it was like he took his anger out on her. But in the end, it was a draw. She was able to defend herself against a Green Lantern.

“What happens now? Do I get the job?” she wondered aloud.

That was the question of the hour. She completed the three tests to the best of her ability. She didn’t know if she passed or what was going to happen to her.

Superman put a hand on her shoulder.

“Your combat skills need a lot of work,” he said slowly.

Athalia internally deflated. Great. She failed. She was going to get sent back. The faint hope she allowed herself to have was going to be dashed.

 Superman squeezed her shoulder and continued, “You need to be trained, before you can go into the field.”

Athalia almost collapsed with relief. And fatigue.

But, mostly relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hey nice and long chapter!  
> All feedback is appreciated! Really great motivation for me to get chapters done on time ;)  
> Big thanks to Purveyor of Words for beta-ing!  
> Cheers!  
> ~Tiara of Sapphires


	5. Tribulations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That…totally didn’t take more than a month for me to update…ooops.  
> Thank you so much to all who gave me feedback! It is much appreciated!  
> Enjoy!  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize blah blah blah don’t sue me DC I’m not worth it

Athalia didn’t get a choice in who was going to train her.

The next day, when she reported to a room full of exercise equipment, Diana was there, getting warmed up, waiting for her.

It made sense. Anyone who knew of the Justice League knew how great of a fighter she was. Diana had a muscular body, both strong and graceful. Athalia knew that no amount of training would be able to get her to that kind of shape, but if anyone could make her useful in a fight, it was Diana.

Even then, Athalia was hesitant at the whole process of physical training. She didn’t say it aloud to anyone whenever it was brought up. But now that they were alone and about to start, Athalia spoke up.

“My abilities—I don’t need to be fast or strong to use them. I don’t understand why this is necessary.”

Diana didn’t look angry in the face of her reservations. She didn’t even seem surprised.

“It’s good to be a versatile warrior. Physically, mentally, not restricted to only your psychic power.”

Warrior. That was something she never thought she could be referred to, something that she could become. Things like hero and warrior.

Athalia nodded, relenting.

“Okay. I’ll try.”

Diana held up two rolls of fabric.

“I’ll bind up your left hand and then you can do the same to your right.”

“Why?”

“So you don’t accidentally bruise or break your hand while we train.”

Athalia didn’t like the sound of that at all. She couldn’t draw if her hand was broken. And her hands would probably break more easily than anyone else’s.

Diana gripped Athalia’s left arm firmly and wrapped white fabric tightly around her palm, between her fingers, and around her wrist and up her forearm. Athalia studied the pattern, committed it to memory. Her fingers curled into a fist when Diana was done. The fabric was a stiff, solid pressure, slightly hindering.

Athalia took up the other roll of fabric and wrapped up her right hand, the same way Diana had done. It wasn’t as neat as her left hand, but Athalia made sure it was just as tight.

“You’ll get the hang of it. It’ll be like muscle-memory.”

Athalia tapped her right fist into her left palm a couple times.

“What do you want me to do?” Athalia asked.

Diana gestured at the large bag hanging from the ceiling.

“This is a punching bag. I want you to punch it.”

Of course. That was a dumb question.

Familiar energy curled around her knuckles and fingertips, almost reflexively. But she bit it back. This was a test on her physical capabilities and she wasn’t going to cheat.

One leg slightly in front of the other, hands up.

Right, left, right again. The impact travelled up her arm as the bag swayed a little with each hit. Even as she did it, she didn’t feel like her punches were any good.

Athalia turned to Diana, who didn’t look impressed.

“Okay, that was…not great. But at least you didn’t tuck your thumb into your fist.”

“Thanks,” Athalia muttered.

Athalia shuffled to the side as Diana took her place, squaring up in front of the bag.

 “You need to turn into your punch,” she said, “Use your entire body.”

Her entire body seemed to pivot as she punched out and the bag swung violently each time her fist made contact.

 “I don’t have a habit of punching people,” Athalia couldn’t help but grumble.

Of course, Diana was probably a thousand times stronger than Athalia could ever be, so Athalia tried not to feel too bad about herself. She could see the differences: how Diana’s feet were placed, how her body was angled at her target.

Diana moved aside and gestured at the bag.

“Well, we’re going to make it a habit. Try how I did it.”

Athalia mimicked her pose, adjusting when Diana told her.

The change was minimal, but a change nonetheless. There was a little more power behind each punch.

“You’re getting the technique. Obviously, with practice, you’ll get better.”

The compliment sounded sincere and Athalia hoped that it actually was sincere.

“Alright, let’s see what you can do with your abilities. Hit the bag.”

Athalia felt more comfortable with that. If there was something she could do, it was that.

She wasn’t sure how many times Diana wanted to see her do this. She hit four times, energy curling at her fingertips, a comfortable hum.

The bag swung with each hit. It was better than when she hit the bag with her fists; that was for sure.

Athalia turned to Diana, looking again for some kind of reaction.

“Is that the best you got?” Diana asked. Her tone wasn’t mocking or challenging, but genuinely confused and curious.

“ _Stars, am I really_ that _incompetent?_ ” Athalia thought.

Frustration curled in her stomach and Athalia hit the bag again, psychic force connecting with the leather with a loud slapping sound.

Diana nodded. “That’s better. Why didn’t you do that at first?”

“I don’t know,” Athalia sighed. “I wasn’t in the right mindset the first time, I guess.”

Diana nudged her.

“Why don’t we try this? Imagine the bag is someone you were facing on the battlefield. Someone bad, who was trying to hurt you. Hit the bag like you would hit them.”

Seemed like a solid plan.

What was the first thing that came to mind when she thought of a threat?

There were many options. Old memories, new memories, different versions of the same fear and the same anger.

Four years earlier. Or was it five? She couldn’t _remember_ how long ago it was.

An empty, tree-lined road. She remembered that. A little hand in hers, trotting feet by her side. A taller figure on her other side, carrying a heavy weight. Complaining, teasing about the broken-down speeder, how they had to walk all the way to the town over.

Five men, walking in the opposite direction. The man in the middle was the one she remembered most vividly.

She couldn’t remember if his uniform was grey or khaki or both or neither.

But, she remembered the tufts of white hair near his temples. His left earlobe was mangled, like an animal had clamped on and shook. She remembered pale blue eyes. It was rare for his race to have that color eyes. When they first met, Athalia could’ve called them ‘beautiful’, if not for the cruelty found there.

The image became clearer, superimposed over where the bag was.

He was at least a foot taller than she, muscular. He held a blade in his fist, blood dripping from the edge.

Athalia froze, shaking. It was anger, but more than anger. It was rage, pain, _fear_ , mixed into a mess.

Paralyzed. Again, she was paralyzed in the face of this man and he wasn’t even there. She wanted to run and hide or disappear from existence entirely. Damn it, why was she so weak? Why was she such a coward?

“ _Stop. Think of someone else. Think of someone else!_ ” the last vestiges of rationality screamed at her.

“Athalia?” Diana asked, concern in her voice.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Athalia shook herself.

She was on Earth. She wasn’t on Mnemosia. She was safe. It wasn’t real.

She opened her eyes again and the leather of the punching bag stared back at her.

“Sorry. I—I’m fine,” Athalia said, “Let me try again.”

“Are you sure? We can do something else if—”

“No!” Athalia snapped, her voice louder than she anticipated. “No. It’s fine. I want to try again.”

Diana was concerned. Athalia could see it in her face from the corner of her eye.

“ _Stars, save me. Get it together_ ,” she thought.

Athalia inhaled and exhaled, hating how her chest shook with barely-contained emotion.

The image changed. Something familiar, but more recently familiar: Green Lantern.

She pictured his face, twisted with rage. His eyes glowed with malice and green light flashed on his fist.

There was the anger again, this time more controllable. The energy bubbled to the surface, becoming tangible, focused.

Inhale, exhale, inhale.

Focus.

Athalia flicked her wrist, aiming at the image.

The energy connected with the bag with a cracking sound.

A smile pulled at her lips.

“ _That was more like it_ ,” she thought.

Short bursts. Longer, sustained blasts. Some carefully aimed at specific parts of the image. She told herself it was for practicing accuracy, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t imagining hitting him in the face and the crotch over and over and over again.

A manifestation of natural ability and her emotion, striking the bag over and over again. She beat at the bag, at the image her mind conjured up, until sweat clung to her temples. An ache started to settle in her bones and a pressure behind her eyes.

That was enough. She was overexerting herself.

The bag slowly stopped swinging as Athalia let her hands rest by her sides, ‘Green Lantern’ fading into nothing. She tried to sweep the anger coursing through her body away, taking a couple deep breaths.

Nobody spoke for a moment.

“Who were you imagining?” Diana asked.

Athalia shifted, shame coloring her cheeks.

“You wouldn’t like it,” Athalia muttered.

“Try me.”

Athalia wasn’t going to mention the first person she thought of. That was only going to raise more questions that she wasn’t going to answer.

“Green Lantern.”

Diana didn’t look entirely shocked by her answer. After all, the League seemed to make an effort in keeping Athalia and Green Lantern as far away from each other as possible, the two of them never in the same room.

And Athalia was grateful for it. She didn’t want to think about him. She didn’t like the anger that welled up inside whenever she saw him. The anger felt justified, but there was an undercurrent of…something that she couldn’t identify.

Green Lantern was the next person that came to mind. As long as it was someone, anyone who _wasn’t_ the first person she thought of.

It worked. It brought up the emotion she needed. She supposed it was good that she was taking out her anger like this and not letting it fester inside.

“I’m sorry,” Athalia said. “I shouldn’t think of him like that. We’re going to work together, eventually.”

Diana held up a hand and Athalia shut her mouth.

“Don’t apologize. I don’t think anyone expects you to get along with everyone. As long as it remains in this room.”

It wasn’t going to leave this room. Athalia knew that. She could control this anger. She could be civil with him and work with him. She had to.

“From now on, whatever it takes for you to hit as hard as you can during training, do it. I won’t judge you.”

“I don’t like hurting other people,” Athalia said. As she said it, she was unsure why she wanted to make sure Diana knew that fact.

She kept telling herself that she didn’t like it. During her first fight, during her tests, now here. She didn’t want to hurt people. She didn’t like hurting people. She hoped that it would remain true. She didn’t relish in causing pain. She wasn’t like _them_ , like the man with the blue eyes.

“They won’t care,” Diana said firmly. “They will hurt you regardless of if you hurt them or not.”

Like Sinestro and Tsukuri. Their faces came to Athalia’s mind. They tried to kill her. If she hadn’t fought and hurt them, she would’ve died.

This was her new reality. Diana was trying to get her to accept it.

“I understand,” Athalia whispered.

…

Athalia pressed the meat of her palm into her temple, warding off a headache.

Diana had Athalia learn self-defense techniques, followed by more training with her abilities. Diana was called to deal with an incident in the city, cutting the training off short of the day.

Athalia pretended to be disappointed by that, but really she was grateful for the break.

Going back to her room and sleeping for the next five years sounded better and better by the minute.

She was _supposed_ to go and get files—about the American government system or something like that—to study. Apparently, there were many nuances to living on Earth and being a League member required knowing about them.

Athalia wasn’t sure where she to get these files or from who. Not that she was alone on the Watchtower. There was always at least one official League member on Watchtower at all times. Athalia didn’t know if that was always the case or it started as soon as she joined.

Maybe it was to make sure she wasn’t going to suddenly turn against them.

The very idea of it was ridiculous in Athalia’s mind, but she could understand the paranoia.

“ _I wouldn’t want some stranger walking around my house when I wasn’t there_ ,” she thought.

She didn’t know who in the League was around.

Instead, not risking that she run into Green Lantern at the Monitor, Athalia went to the kitchen and sat down at the round table. She was hungry, but exhaustion overwhelmed that feeling. Reading was the last thing she wanted to do.

She rested her chin on her hand and shut her eyes for a moment. Her knuckles were sore from exercise. A muscle in her back twinged a little when she shifted the wrong way.

Yes, she could maybe rest her eyes for one…short…moment.

“—your first day of training?”

Athalia jerked from where she sat, wakefulness clearing the fog from her eyes.

“ _Must’ve dozed off_ ,” she thought.

She turned to the source of the voice and saw J’onn standing a few feet behind her.

“J’onn, hey.”

Athalia blinked, realizing that she hadn’t answered his question.

“Oh. Uh, Diana is a good teacher. I learned how to throw a proper punch.”

She punched the air halfheartedly, smiling. He nodded, smiling back.

“Good to hear. I am sorry if I woke you.”

He walked past her and started going through the cupboards and refrigerator.

Athalia rubbed her face with her hand, covering a small yawn.

“No, it’s fine,” Athalia assured him. “I shouldn’t have been sleeping.”

Those sounds reminded her that she was supposed to have…dinner? It was the evening, right? In space, day and night didn’t really exist. There was always someone awake.

Athalia honestly didn’t know what time it was. She was hungry, but she was tired. And she didn’t want to move.

Her eyelids fluttered, but she snapped to attention when J’onn sat across from her and set a glass on the table.

“ _Stars, I’m tired_ ,” she thought

Athalia eyed the glass, not moving her face from where it rested on her hand. He wasn’t drinking from it. It was just sitting on the tabletop between them. J’onn pushed the glass closer to her. Athalia looked at him and back at it.

“What is this?” she asked.

She pulled the glass closer to her, eyeing it suspiciously. It wasn’t anything she recognized.

“It’s a protein shake,” he explained. “It will help with forming muscles. You should have these every day.”

Right. Of course. She had no idea what how this ‘training’ was supposed to work, aside from beating up a punching bag. Her people weren’t known for being physically fit. There were few who cared about physical strength and she was never one of them.

And of course she would join a group of people who all were the pictures of physical fitness, including the one sitting across from her.

Athalia huffed and lifted the glass, taking a sniff.

“Smells funny,” Athalia muttered.

It smelled sweet, but not _good_. Definitely not like the meal she had planned on making—eventually.

She took a sip and it took everything she had not to spit it out. 

“This is disgusting,” she sputtered she could think to filter her words.

J’onn blinked in shock.

“It’s chocolate-flavored. I assumed—,”

Athalia laughed, tapping her fingernails against the glass. “I’ve had chocolate before. This hardly counts as chocolate.”

She swirled the glass and the light brown liquid swirled the same direction. Definitely not chocolate. Chocolate was sweet and—according to Marie—unhealthy.

“Thanks for trying though,” Athalia allowed.

Athalia wasn’t sure what to say next, silence falling between them. There was the option of letting the quiet settle. It would allow Athalia to figure out a way to get out of drinking any more of this.

But this silence also let her mind wander. Thoughts and questions and memories long forgotten or ignored could resurface at any moment.

_A monument of red stone stretched toward the sky, slowly broken down by a mob._

“Your blood tests came back. You are going to need a vitamin supplement,” J’onn spoke up.

Athalia blinked at the sudden change in subject, the image called to mind disappearing as soon as it came.

“ _Seriously? Vitamins?_ ” she thought.

“So, I’m going to be having a lot of protein shakes and vitamins?” Athalia muttered.

Another sip. Still barely palatable.

“Also lean meats, fruits and vegetables, carbohydrates,” he listed.

She nodded. At least she wasn’t regulated to _only_ protein shakes and vitamins. What he was describing didn’t sound too bad.

“Not surprised,” she muttered. “You did my medical evaluation. So you get to boss me around when it comes to my health.”

“A responsibility I don’t take lightly, I assure you.”

Her surprise showed before she could even think to hide it, her spine stiffening in a way that J’onn had to have noticed. His words seemed to squeeze something in Athalia’s chest that she didn’t know—or perhaps had forgotten—existed until that very moment.

“ _How in_ Deiyah’s _name am I supposed to respond to that!?_ ” she thought.

Athalia started, “Um, th—”

Flash burst into the room at that moment, a gust of air on his heels. Athalia couldn’t help but flinch at his sudden appearance, which seemed to cut through and dispel the tension in the air.

“I’m hungry!” Flash muttered, as if mid-thought.

He stopped to look at the two at the table, almost startled to see them.

“Oh, hey, guys! You having a milkshake, A?” Flash asked.

Athalia wrinkled her nose. She knew what a milkshake looked like from her time in the diner. She had never tried it, but they had always looked sweet and very filling. They were definitely not like what she had just tasted.

“I wish. It’s a protein shake.”

Flash made a face. “That looks nasty. Did you just mix the powder and milk in that? You need to add some fruit or something.”

Athalia wasn’t sure if it would help, but she didn’t speak up to say so.

Flash rummaged through the cupboards and sped out of the room, cradling several brightly colored packages.

“Bye!” he shouted. His voice quickly faded.

There was that awkward silence again. They couldn’t go back to what they were talking about before Flash interrupted; it didn’t feel right. 

Athalia lifted the glass, gesturing at the Martian sitting across from her, forcing some levity into the suddenly awkward atmosphere.

“To my good health.”

She brought the glass to her lips and drank as much of the shake as possible. Honestly, she should have been used to the flavor by then, but still it tasted unnatural.

“Stars, that is foul. Alright, are you satisfied?” Athalia muttered, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Very,” came the deadpan reply.

She stood and took the glass to the sink, washing it with tap water.

“I’m going to make myself some dinner,” she said, not turning to look at him. “Do you want me to make you something, too?”

It made sense. She was returning the favor, even though he giving her a protein shake wasn’t a favor in her book.

“No, thank you,” J’onn answered. “Actually, I am needed in the Monitor room.”

Athalia turned to see him standing, about to make for the door.

“Oh. Okay. Bye, J’onn,” she replied, forcing her voice to sound as impassive as possible.

He nodded.

“Goodbye.”

Athalia turned back to open the refrigerator just as he started to leave.

It was filled with food, definitely an eclectic collection. There were things clearly labelled with their respective owner’s name, so she didn’t touch them.

A bread roll, some slices of meat she found in one of the fridge drawers, a handful of fruit—she was pretty sure they were grapes—stacked on her plate.

She sat back down and started picking at her food, taking small bites.

That was strange. She wasn’t going to pretend that the exchange she had with J’onn wasn’t strange. He made her a drink, watched her drink it, and left.

He was likely trying to get a better read on her, what she was like as a person in a normal environment. She knew he wasn’t prying in her head; she would’ve known if he had been.

She put it out of her mind. Hopefully her next conversation with him wasn’t as awkward and tense as that one.

At least, she didn’t feel like she was going to doze off and wake up with her face pressed against her plate.

She still needed to get those files. Diana probably would ask about it the next time Athalia saw her.

“ _Stars, save me_.”

Day one was almost over. She could handle day two and day three.

She could definitely do this. At least, that’s what she told herself.

…

Athalia flopped onto her bed with a loud groan. Steam and the smell of shampoo drifted from the bathroom.

Never did a hot shower and pajamas ever feel so good.

Her legs felt like jelly and her head felt full of fluff.

The energy that had coursed through her veins only hours earlier was reduced to a gentle hum, a quiet reminder that it was there, ever-present.

Fourteen days of training later, it was getting easier and harder at the same time. Every time she thought she mastered something, some technique, she would move on to something more advanced or more repetitions would be added. At the end of each day, though, she knew she was getting better.

She could get a shield up that encompassed her entire body. Of course, it didn’t stay up for long and she knew it was likely very flimsy. But, the knowledge that she could do it was a confidence booster for her.

She was improving, getting stronger. She practiced as often as possible with her abilities, even in private when she didn’t need to train. She hit targets, lifted weights and created barriers. It was nice, knowing that she could show this part of herself without having to worry about getting in trouble. It wasn’t how her abilities were meant to be used. The energy danced over and under her skin as she played with it, made it do new things, feeling more and more natural with each passing day.

It was getting less taxing using them over extended periods of time. She still got headaches—she almost always had a headache nowadays—but it never got to the point where her nose bled and her entire body felt drained of all energy.

It was easier than the physical training she was made to do.

Athalia had lost count on how many miles she was made to run on a treadmill, how many punches and kicks she delivered on punching bags, how many weights she lifted.

The ache in her thighs and knees told her of her amount of running she did that day.

She was almost certain if she dug her heels in the ground and told Diana that she was done with it, Diana wouldn’t force her to continue the training. But, Athalia had come to accept that this was necessary.

Athalia wanted to earn her place among these heroes. They were already doing her a favor, offering more kindness than she probably deserved or could ever repay. It wouldn’t be fair if she was a liability, especially if she could fix at least part of it.

And it wasn’t completely unbearable. She was allowed to stop and take breaks whenever she wanted while she was training. She was allowed to lie on the cushioned floor and drink some water when it felt like she was overextending herself.

There were worse fates.

She actually felt a little stronger and healthier.

It was a mixed blessing. Now that Athalia was getting stronger, Diana insisted that they would begin combat training in the next session, adding to the physical training and the honing of her psychic powers.

“ _Great. One more thing to worry about._ ”

The very idea of it stressed her out. Fighting an unmoving punching bag wasn’t the same as fighting an actual person.

All of the scraps she ever got into as a child ended with her getting a split lip or a black eye. Or she would lose her temper and lash out with the psychic abilities inherent in her race. The latter always got her in a heap of trouble with her parents.

_Athalia scrubbed her eyes with her fists, any excuse to not look at her parents—Yana and Feivel. They were disappointed with her. She could feel it._

_She had felt her parents’ anger and disappointment when she initially lashed out. It had been faint, an ominous shadow dancing on the thread that linked their minds together. Now that they were in the same room, her parents knelt down to her eye-level, the space so small between them, it was intense. It made her heart beat a little faster and her skin feel a little tighter._

_She wanted to curl into a ball and disappear._

_“Athalia,” Mama warned._

_She hated when her mother used that tone of voice, saying her name in a way that drew the truth from Athalia’s mouth whether she liked it or not. Athalia crossed her arms over her chest, unable to look at her directly. Her gaze fixed on the pendant hanging around her neck: green stone surrounding a blue gem. Athalia loved touching it. But now it looked like an eye, staring judgmentally at her._

_“They called me stupid,” Athalia mumbled._

_Tears began to burn in her eyes then. They had been mocking her. ‘Stupid’ wasn’t the harshest thing they said but Athalia wasn’t going to repeat it. She would start crying if she did. And there was nothing she hated more than crying in front of other people._

_Her father leaned forward and gripped Athalia’s arms._

_“Deiyah gave us these abilities to commune with each other, not to harm each other,” Papa said, “Your actions send ripples that affect the ones close to you.”_

_Deiyah, the god who created her people, molding them out of celestial fire. The god her people swore to and worshipped at the seasonal festivals. The god who fostered connections among family and friends and communities._

_Athalia was mortified, not only because she had displeased her god, but also she…hurt her parents? “You—you felt what I did?”_

_He nodded._

_“We felt how angry and afraid you were. But when you lashed out, when you used your abilities for violence, we felt it.”_

_Striking at that mean boy had felt good at the time, at that very moment when her anger snapped and turned into something tangible. She had felt powerful for a brief moment._

_But—she didn’t—she hadn’t…_

_“Did it hurt?” she asked. Her voice cracked, small and ashamed._

_“It did.”_

_It was that moment when Athalia began to cry in earnest. She had been so angry and she hurt her parents in the process._

_“I’m sorry, Mama. I’m sorry, Papa. I won’t do it again. I promise.”_

She cringed at the memory. That was not a fun day. She had to apologize to the boy she shoved down the hill and he had to apologize for calling her stupid.

The name-calling resumed soon after that with whispers of ‘beast’ and ‘animal’ along with the usual ‘stupid’ and ‘idiot’.

But it didn’t matter anymore.

Those who bullied her were likely dead and the same pacifism that her parents lived wiped her people off the face of her planet. It was a disaster that wouldn’t couldn’t shouldn’t have happened.

Deiyah might have given Athalia’s people these abilities, but they didn’t stop the slaughter.

Athalia used to swear to Deiyah, the god who took many forms, and to Kirhida, the First and Creator. There was another: Ebenaa, creator of the other race. There was reverence there, the sibling of Deiyah and child of Kirhida. Though her people rejected Ebenaa as being a true god, like the other race rejected Deiyah.

She swore to the stars, now. She buried her gods deep down, like she did with almost everything else.

But, Athalia would gladly take her parents lecturing her for every time she used her abilities that were ‘against what Deiyah intended’. As long as it brought them back.

At least she didn’t have to worry about hurting them anymore. The only person affected by use of her abilities was herself. And whoever she was attacking. As long as she followed the rules that the League set—no killing, no excessive force—she could use her abilities however she liked, even for violence.

And Athalia learned that there were plenty of people who deserved violence.

The League, on top of her being in physical shape, needed her to be ready to face anyone in any situation. That required reading. A lot of reading.

After the ‘crash course’—as Superman dubbed it—on American politics, she started on the files on all of the villains the League had come across.

Athalia was able to memorize faces to names quickly.

The histories—bullet points and paragraphs of words and words and words—blurred into one horrifying mess. A lot of death and pain associated with each villain on file. Some were victims, twisted into something terrible and made to do terrible things, with no real choice. But, some seemed to do terrible things on purpose, for the sake of money, power, or sick enjoyment.

Athalia wasn’t sure which was worse.

They were going to try to hurt or kill her regardless of their motivations. She needed to keep that in mind. The innocent came first. Pity for villains could come later.

Athalia rolled to her side, groaning. She definitely didn’t stretch as much as she was supposed to during her training.

There were whispers and plans on the Watchtower. Talk about bringing down a huge villain. Not kill them, of course. But to tear down their empire and lock them away for good.

Athalia wasn’t allowed to know too much information on that matter. She didn’t press for it, though. It was serious, she knew that. Planning and spying and gathering information that would eventually culminate to a confession. After asking Diana, she learned it had something to do with Lex Luthor.

She read plenty on him. While she had only skimmed through most of his thirty-page file, she knew that he was one nasty piece of work: smart, rich, with an utter disregard for lives other than his own. A constant thorn in the side of Superman and, by extension, the Justice League.

It made sense, since the League was filled with that what he hated most: metahumans, those with abilities greater than the usual human. Athalia fell under that category, because she was an alien. Just by existing, by being associated with the Justice League, Athalia was automatically the enemy of dozens of powerful, dangerous people. The entire idea of it amazed Athalia, but if she thought about it—and she really didn’t want to think about it—she was almost used to it.

But in theory, no one else knew she was up here. Not Lex Luthor or anyone else. For all anyone knew, there were only seven.

And it would remain that way, until she was ready. Before then, she knew that she was safe in the Watchtower.

Athalia turned to lie on her back and stared at the ceiling. She didn’t bother getting under the covers.

“ _So tired_ ,” she thought.

And sleep came swiftly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta da~  
> Okay, so class has started up for me again. With that, on top of other writing projects…updates will be spotty. This fic will NOT and never will be abandoned, though. I just want to make that clear. I’m seeing this thing to the end, so help me God.  
> Big thanks to Purveyor of Words for beta-ing this! Check out her fic “Eyes of the Sun”!  
> All feedback is appreciated! It definitely motivates me to update faster!  
> Cheers!  
> ~Tiara of Sapphires

**Author's Note:**

> Ta da?  
> Okay, so I’m gonna try to keep a weekly revised-chapter-update schedule. In theory. Yell at me (gently) over PM if I fall behind.  
> Any and all feedback is much appreciated.  
> Thanks to Purveyor of Words for beta-ing this and just being a cool person in general!  
> Cheers!  
> ~Tiara of Sapphires


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